


sure as the world keeps the moon in the sky

by aarobron



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Emmerdale Big Bang Round 1, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, M/M, Neighbours AU, a little bit of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-17 00:28:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11840214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aarobron/pseuds/aarobron
Summary: welcome to my big bang!an au where aaron and robert are neighbours - neighbours in love..“Thank you,” Aaron whispers, and his words sound as thick as the air he’s pushing them into. “I had a great night, honestly. Just… Thank you.” Then he’s leaning up on his tiptoes; stretching, body lean and long and sharp, and Robert risks settling a hand onto his waist. It shocks Aaron for moment, but then he just grins: some great, dazzling, blinding smile that Robert has to close his eyes against, and before he knows it, there are lips on his cheek. They settle, for one moment, two, three, and he’s holding his breath, fingers tightening around the curve of Aaron’s hip.





	sure as the world keeps the moon in the sky

**Author's Note:**

> the first fic of big bang - it's finally here!!! six months of sweat, blood and tears are in this fic.
> 
> a story about robert, aaron, two apartments and the rough ride of falling in love.
> 
> accompanying (incredible, amazing, wonderful, words can't describe) video by marie ([iamarobronniffler](https://iamarobronniffler.tumblr.com/)) is [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9vem1E_VMK0&feature=youtu.be)
> 
> thank you for reading - hope you like it!
> 
> xx

**2nd january, 5.43pm**

Robert Sugden is twenty-eight and has nothing to show for it. He doesn’t have a wife (or two kids, exactly what his father had wanted for him), he doesn’t have a solid job, and he doesn’t even have much of a social life.

He tells as much to his best friend, sat across from him. “Well,” She tries to pacify, placing a hand over Robert’s fidgeting one. “You’re moving in to your new flat tomorrow, that’s exciting!”

“Yeah, Louise,” He deadpans. “Owning a studio flat in the wrong part of Leeds city centre is exactly what every other twenty-eight year old is aspiring to.”

  


**3rd january, 9.31am**

Not an aspiration, perhaps, but Robert is _excited_. He can only really put it down to finally having somewhere to call his own, somewhere that he has all control over – but then he thinks of the shitty rented van that has about six pieces of furniture in it and absolutely nothing to make the place his.

He pushes on regardless, forces a smile onto his face as he’s forcing a chest of drawers up the stairs (he’s still questioning why he didn’t just find a block of flats with a lift, _god_ ), and after an hour and a bit of Louise’s witty jokes and sharp humour, he’s actually feeling it.

“I mean, think of all the fun you could have,” She enthuses, and Robert doesn’t have to look at her to know that her eyes are bright and cheeky. “Blonde girls, brunette girls, skinny girls, curvy girls…”

He’s laughing, finally, unforced and happy, and yeah, he kind of sees where she’s coming from. He doesn’t have to put up with all manners of complaints from his flatmates about him being too loud at like, nine at night, and for the first time he looks at this with a feeling of adventure. “That’s a lot of girls, Lou.”

“I didn’t even get started on the boys, Rob! Blond boys, brunet boys, clean shaven boys…” She trails off, eyes focusing just past Robert’s shoulder. She lowers her voice conspiratorially, lips twisted into something that resembles a smirk. “Boys who look like that.”

Robert follows the line of her eyes, and he settles his gaze on a dark-haired man and… _Fuck_. He can’t breathe suddenly, like all the air has been punched out of his lungs, and it takes him a good ten seconds to recover. “Hey,” He calls, fixing his trademark confident smile. “Don’t suppose you could give us a hand?”

The man spins round, eyes flitting before they settle on Robert. “Sorry mate,” He says. His voice is low and gruff and music to Robert’s ears, and he has to will his pulse to slow the fuck down. “Got somewhere to be. You look like you can handle it, though.”

“A shame,” Robert quips. He might let his eyes rake over the man’s body, and judging by the perfect pink colour that rises to his cheeks, he might’ve eye-fucked him a bit _too_ much. “You look like you know your way around some heavy lifting.”

The man laughs, short and sweet but real, and Robert’s heart actually squeezes itself tight, millions of butterflies unfurling from the dark corners of his stomach. “I’ll see you around.”

And then he turns on his heel, out the door and fading into the distance. Robert feels his façade drop, then his body, and the edge of the step above him is digging into his back. “Fuck,” He sighs, bringing his hands up to his hair.

“Sugden’s got it bad,” Louise teases, and shit, shit. It’s not like he’d forgotten she was there exactly, it’s just that he maybe had a bit of tunnel vision when he’d seen the man.

He glares at her anyway. “Shut up.”

  


**11th january, 6.51pm**

Robert Sugden is twenty-eight and his life is good.

He’s been living in his new flat for a month, he finally has a job and is actually doing well (probably because he’s managed to hold himself back from sleeping with the wrong person), and he’s even out for drinks three nights a week.

This is why he doesn’t mind the fact that he’s not seen the man since.

He already has a perfect fantasy version of him in his head, anyway. Why would he want to ruin it?

At least, this is what he thinks until he hears a familiar voice and his ears perk up. The sound is muffled, quiet, maybe a bit warped but it’s warm and exactly the same as those two sentences he’s been replaying in his mind for the past four weeks.

His pulse absolutely _does not_ pick up.

The wood of the door between them seems to make the tone of the man’s voice all that sweeter, and Robert’s heart actually yearns. It’s there before he can catch himself, but he just forces it away and tells himself that he’s not a thirteen-year-old girl. He’s not going to act like this about someone he’s had a thirty second conversation with, _Jesus_.

But he still finds an excuse to leave his flat.

He shoves his shoes on haphazardly, shrugging on his coat as he pretty much yanks the door open. The two men turn to look at the noise, and Robert just smiles. “Hi,” He greets with his most charming gaze. “Haven’t bumped into many neighbours yet.”

“Can’t imagine you have,” The man teases, words laced with amusement. He turns back to his door, back to shoving the key in, and Robert tells himself that the joy he feels at knowing where the guy lives is _not creepy at all_.

"See you around?" He asks, tilting his chin in a challenge. There's one beat, two, then a third; silence, one calculating gaze and the barely-trembling line of shoulders, and he busies himself smoothing the creases out of his coat.

"Maybe." The man grants, and his mouth is a thin line but his eyes are bright, swimming with laughter.

Robert wouldn't mind taking a dip in those eyes.

He nods once and forces his feet to move _left right left right left_ , until he's down the hall and round the corner. He shoves his hands in his pockets and shit, they're shaking. How stupid that they are.

It's then that he realises he hasn't even got his wallet.

Well, it's the perfect time for a walk anyway.

  


**13th january, 9.22pm**

"So... Let me get this straight," Louise says, arching one perfectly shaped eyebrow. "You made an excuse about going for a walk or to the shop or whatever... Just because you _heard his voice_." She's sitting on the brand new sofa in Robert's brand new flat, shoes kicked off to the side and legs tucked under her. Robert thinks he probably could've loved her, if he'd tried hard enough.

"It wasn't _like_ that," He argues back, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks through forcing his face into his mug of tea. "I just want to get to know him, alright?"

Louise unfurls herself, digs her toes into his thigh painfully and he lets out a noise he's not proud of. "That's borderline _stalking_ , Robert. There's laws against that." His best friend says and he looks at her again, one hand deep in a pack of his (expensive) digestive biscuits as she stares him down. This, he thinks, is probably why he's not in love with her.

"And what exactly am I going to say?" He snaps. She flinches slightly, leaning further back against the arm rest. "I can't just be like, 'I'm Robert and I think I might be madly in love with you', can I?" He knows it's not her fault and the guilt seeps through his pores. It's just that he's never actually felt like this in his entire life. He sighs, presses his index finger against his temple for a minute and drops his arm over her shoulders. She remains stoic until he tightens his grip, tries to tell her _I'm sorry, it's not your problem_ through the contact and she finally, finally softens. He lets out a breath he didn't realise he was holding.

Louise is silent for longer than Robert's actually ever seen her – engrossed in Homes Under The Hammer, staring intently, eyes wide and unwavering. He knows she's pretending, is probably running his last words through her mind and mulling them over, but that's alright. He needs a minute to process them, too. Suddenly, a shit-eating grin breaks across her face, and it's like staring at the sun. He feels a bit blinded as she turns to look at him. "'Madly in love'?" She teases. "Robert Sugden, madly in love with _anyone_?"

"I said might be," He argues but it sounds weak to his own ears, and he shifts slightly, hides his smile in her chocolate curls. "But it's probably a yes."

  


**18th january, 7.02am**

Mornings, Robert thinks, were created by the _devil_. He hates them, despises them, to the point where he doesn't rise past eleven am if he can help it. On weekends it's even worse; curls himself under his duvet until two at the earliest.

So today, when he hears a knock at his door, he groans. The sun's barely up, nothing but a pale semicircle peeking over the horizon and casting dark shadows through his bedroom.

He turns over, determined to ignore the knocking and go back to sleep seeing as it's the middle of the fucking night still, but just as he pulls the duvet over his head he hears the knocking again.

It's persistent this time, harsher and firm, and Robert can feel the phantom ache of sympathy at his own knuckles as he pads through his too-small flat to get to the door. His state of undress just about registers as he opens the door, but it's _his home_ and he figures that paying the rent every month affords him some kind of control about how he chooses (or not to, as the case may be) to dress.

"Oh," He hears when he's not really looking an awful lot at anything, at black shiny trainers (seriously, what's wrong with a little bit of style these days? Robert wouldn’t be caught dead in something like that) and his head snaps up. "I have your post."

"I, er..." He stammers, honest to god stammers, for the first time in his life. He feels a blush rising up from his collarbones, to his neck and cheeks, then further to his ears, and he's begging to any form of entity that exists that he will convert and be a believer if the man just does not, _does not_ notice. "Thanks."

The man's holding out the letters, arm outstretched and in Robert's space, and the latter all but snatches it. Their fingers brush, and Robert feels some kind of burning liquid coursing through his veins. He's too _tired_ to pretend to be anything that resembles confident, and he wraps an arm around his torso when he remembers that he is, in fact, still half naked. His other hand tugs the waistband of the joggers he's had for at least four years up, but his extremities seem to have a mind of their fucking own and they stumble, almost dropping his post.

"Guess I'll leave you to it," The man says, with that stupid amused tone (again? How many times will Robert have to hear that?) and he turns to walk the one, two, five steps to his door. "See you later, Sugden."

"I didn't catch your name!" Robert blurts before he can stop himself, and there's a deathly quiet pause where he mentally starts punching himself in the face.

The man stops, uncurls his fist from his door handle and turns his head. "Aaron," He says with half a smile. "Aaron Dingle."

  


**27th january, 6.53pm**

Robert runs a hand through his hair, sighing in disdain at his pint. "You'll have to remind me of the small village drama," Louise starts, and he can feel the headache forming already. "He's a Dingle, you're a Sugden... Are you the Dales' answer to Romeo and Juliet?"

"We're not star-crossed lovers, Louise," He argues back. "But he's a Dingle. They're... Morally grey, at best. And my dad, he wasn't exactly their biggest fan. He worked hard, they worked hard to make sure they didn't work hard." He rubs his thumb through the condensation on his glass, focuses on anything but the kohl-lined eyes staring at him in wonder.

"Are they _criminals_?" She whispers conspiratorially, pushing her hands into his line of vision. He stares harder at the table around her fingers, at the dubious stains and grains in the wood, traces the rings of brown as he thinks of it growing for hundreds, thousands of years in a Swedish forest just to be hacked down and presented in front of too many. He wonders if the table feels the same as he does under Louise's gaze.

He takes a deep breath, curls his lips into a too-fake smile and lifts his head. The mask is firmly in place. "'They're bad news, Robert! You stay away from that Dingle girl!'" He booms, lowering his voice to sound like his father's. "He thought their farm was the cesspool of depravity." It brings a laugh from his best friend at least, and he counts that as a silent victory. He doesn't really find the humour in it.

"And if he thought the Dingle girl was bad, what would he think of the Dingle boy?" She shrieks through her laughter, and Robert swears his heart stops for a minute. It jumps to his throat, choking him, strangling him, and he reminds himself to breathe, breathe, breathe. She doesn't know. She doesn't need to know. "God knows," He tries for easy, light-hearted, but it drops, falls flat and splatters on the table in front of his eyes. He's almost certain he can see it, the resentment in his voice; thick and black, like tar, like the way his chest felt when his dad would shout at him, when Andy would taunt him.

Louise seems to notice the tension, gently places her hand over his for half a second, then pulls back. "I'll go get us another drink." She says warmly, punctuated by the sound of her chair screeching across the floor. That's what Robert likes about her, really. He likes that she knows when to drop it. That's something he's never really had in his life.

And when Robert Sugden is pushed, well, that's when things get dangerous.

  


**27th january, 11.28pm**

Robert feels tired. He feels out of place; jittery and wrong, like his bones are buzzing and his skin is humming. That's the excuse he uses for why he's on the wrong side of tipsy, ignoring intrusive thoughts of _bitter prodigal sons_ and _disappointed fathers_.

Knowing his neighbour is a Dingle, in retrospect, shouldn't have changed anything.

But the harsh reality is that it has.

Robert Sugden is in love with a- no, scratch that. Robert Sugden _likes_ a Dingle, sort of, through three brief meetings and the sound of his voice. It's stupid, really, but Robert knows what he wants.

He just doesn't want it to make him feel like this.

He can't explain it, not really, the way his heart thuds in his chest, the way his bones turn to mercury, liquid and silver and heavy. He doesn't know why. He's never felt like this.

Not with Chrissie, his almost-wife, with her beautiful face and even more beautiful house.

Not with Eve, his first girlfriend, with her gorgeous smile and gorgeous personality.

He'd almost be surprised at the fact it's a _man_ that makes him feel like this if it wasn't for all the personality traits it explains.

Like how he's never been in love with anyone (except himself, really).

He's loved people, sure, but mostly in the way of 'I hope bad things don't happen to this person', or 'I care about you a lot but that's all'.

He doesn't think there's anyone he'd actually jump in front of a bullet for.

So that's why he's drunk. He mixes these thoughts with the vodka he convinced Louise to buy, feels it all pulsing through his veins and sitting at the tips of his fingers. He's shaking a bit, blames it on the cold and concentrates a little harder on getting the key into the lock.

It misses, once, twice, just sliding away from the metal. Almost there but never quite, and Robert thinks that he must be drunk if he's comparing himself to a fucking _lock_.

His shoulder hits the doorframe and he huffs out a frustrated sigh, letting his hands fall to his side and the key fall out of his grip. He doesn't have time for this. He's just so fucking tired.

But then a hand lands on his shoulder, warm and whole. He can feel callouses through the cotton of his shirt, on the tips of the end fingers and the palm of the hand. It feels right.

He doesn't look up, can't, because he knows his eyes are red-rimmed and his face is puffy and he's a mess. "C'mon," A voice says. A man. The man _Aaron_. "Let's get you inside."

“Don’t need your help,” He tries to snap, but it just comes out sounding all pathetic and miserable. "'m fine."

But he's not and he knows it, and Aaron Dingle knows it, and the man huffs out a laugh while picking up the key. "Yeah, that's why I've been listening to you piss about with the door for ten minutes, right?" Robert glances up, sees bright, glittery eyes on him and drops his head straight back down. _Aaron is the entire reason you're in this mess_ , his mind supplies, but he tells the thoughts to fuck off. This is his own mess, the tangled web of bullshit that sits in the back of his mind daily, eating him alive.

"Just wanna go bed," He sighs. "Need to sleep it off."

"Too right you do, Sugden," Aaron frowns. Robert looks up through his lashes, studies on the tiny lines that appear around his eyes and nose. He hopes they're laughter lines. He hates to think of Aaron crying. "You smell like a cheap brewery." The door's unlocked with a showy flourish, and Aaron has one foot over the threshold until he notices that Robert's not moving.

Warm fingers curl around the older man's wrist, five points of burning heat on his pulse, and the sensation startles him forward. "Sorry," He manages to stammer, feeling the blood race to his face.

"It's alright," Aaron offers gently. "Sit down, I'll get you a glass of water." He disappears to the kitchen, and Robert can hear cupboards slamming. He considers telling Aaron where the glasses are for a moment, but he's too tired so he throws himself onto the sofa, feeling his body sink into the dents he's left. Jesus, he really needs to get out more.

A minute later, Aaron returns, glass in hand and lips pressed into a thin line. Robert's seen that look before, but this time those eyes aren't sparkling with amusement. They're flashing with barely concealed concern. "Thanks."

"Wanna talk about it?" Aaron asks, flinging himself down onto the sofa. He's got one arm stretched across the length of the couch, one hand picking at a loose thread on the knee of his jeans, but his gaze is fixed firmly on Robert's face. It's kind of intimidating, in a way that feels like he's being completely scrutinised, and he blushes.

"It's just family drama, innit," He says softly, trying to look anywhere but Aaron's face. "I'm sure you know all about that, being a Dingle an' all." Aaron glances away, but he's still looking at Robert, peeking from under his lashes. A Dingle through and through, clearly, what with the lack of subtlety. "Had my fair share of family drama, yeah," He admits, still picking at the thread. "But I reckon I know a bit about yours, too."

He's clearly prying, and Robert can almost physically feel the pressure, tight around his heart and piercing the back of his eyelids. "I'm sure you do. Who doesn't, right? I'm sure the whole village talks about how much of a fuck up I am." He sounds bitter, feels it too, and his fist clenches around the glass. _Breathe, breathe, breathe_.

"It's not like that, you know," Aaron argues after a moment. "Vic still thinks the world of ya."

"I'm sure she does," He sighs. He can't do this, not with Aaron, not with anyone. "Sorry, but I really don't want to talk about this." He's still staring at the glass, watching the water ripple with every breath he takes. It's almost comforting.

"Okay," Aaron murmurs. "But I understand more than you realise. Remember that." He stands then, presses his hand onto Robert's shoulder and squeezes. Suddenly he's gone, and Robert could almost believe he was just imagining it if it wasn't for the way Aaron's presence still lingers.

It makes him feel spectacularly lonely.

  


**28th january, 2.34pm**

The next afternoon, Robert wakes with a pounding headache and a pounding sense that he's done something wrong.

It doesn't register until he pads through to the living room and sees an empty glass and two dents on his cheap sofa where there's normally one. _Aaron_.

He's embarrassed – well, more than that, really, especially when fractions of the conversation decide to hit him full force in the face. Did he really discuss his problems with a Dingle?

He seriously needs to find a shrink.

Or maybe he just needs to get laid.

Either way, he figures, he's not going to do it stuck in his pokey flat, breathing in stale air and the lingering smell of booze. So he pushes open as many windows as he can, forces himself into a cold shower and makes himself look semi-presentable.

He kind of feels like he's going out of his mind.

After he's checked he has his _phone, wallet, keys_ at least four times, he pushes himself through the door and down the corridor. It's doing him no good sitting between those four walls. He doesn't even know what he's doing really, doesn't have a plan – just that he needs to go.

Every step away from his flat makes him breathe a little easier, makes the relief wash over him a tiny bit more.

That's why he doesn't hear the footsteps until a hand lands on his shoulder. It feels familiar, warm and calloused; like heat and ice all at the same time. It feels like something he could get used to, and he knows who it is before he turns round. "Listen..." He starts before Aaron can say anything. "I'm sorry about last night, if I was a dick or anything. Had a bit too much to drink and..."

"It's fine," Aaron says with a smile that looks a millimetre too wide to be real. It looks strained, looks like it doesn't quite reach his eyes, but Robert doesn't even know this guy. He could be completely wrong. "You were fine. Honestly. I was just wondering if you wanted to get a drink or something?"

Robert's eyebrows shoot up in surprise for a moment, until he reclaims control of his body and schools his expression into something neutral. "I'm free if you are," He says sweetly, offering his most flirty grin.

Aaron laughs, sweet and short but real, and he chalks that up to an accomplishment. Then he wonders when he started counting them.

  


**28th january, 5.46pm**

They're sitting in a cosy booth at the Heart and Crown, three pints and a whiskey down. It's _nice_ , a nice change from talking shop or about Robert's pathetic life. It's a nice change from his colleagues' sharp suits and Louise's expensive dresses. For the first time in months, he feels somewhat normal.

They're talking about football, now, after having skimmed through the weather (Aaron prefers the rain while Robert prefers the sun), food (Aaron prefers pub grub while Robert prefers foreign restaurants), holidays (Aaron prefers the bright lights of Ibiza while Robert prefers the quiet paradise of the Greek Islands), and music (Aaron prefers rock and all its variations while Robert prefers classic guitar bands).

They're complete opposites in _every single way_ but Robert's never felt more at home. It feels easy, not in a way it ever has before – not even with his family, with Louise. The feeling is thrilling to say the least.

And Aaron, god, Aaron doesn't talk much. He's kind of moody, too, until he's not, until he's smiling in a way that lights up Robert's whole world. He's interested and he's interesting. He's quiet but when he does talk, he does it with a chest full of laughter and sweet sarcasm that has the older man hanging onto his every word. Robert just hopes he's subtle about it. He deserves a tiny bit of dignity.

They've been at it for ages; just drinking, talking, and laughing. He thinks he could probably do it for the rest of his life too, just for the way Aaron's eyes sparkle and his cheeks flush with each drink. Just for the way contentment and happiness sits heavily in his bones.

It's new, but it's not at all unwelcome.

But Aaron's getting fidgety now, shifting a bit in his seat as Robert tells him about that time he went to a local football match that ended in pure chaos, so he stops, raises one eyebrow and waits. "What?" Aaron asks, sensing the silence and looking up.

"Sorry, am I boring you?" Robert huffs, with _absolutely no bitterness_ at all. Aaron's already looking at his phone, chewing the skin around his thumb, jiggling his knee. It takes everything in Robert's power not to make him fucking sit still.

"No, of course you're not," The younger man sighs, dropping his phone onto the table with a resounding _clang_. Robert's wallet hurt when he notices a new crack appear, but Aaron doesn't seem bothered. "I'm just having some, um, personal issues. I'm sorry."

Robert deflates slightly, losing the tiny bit of fight that was thrumming through his veins and he places both hands in front of him, a clear sign of surrender. He hopes Aaron sees it, too. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"It's just my boyfriend," He breathes quickly, like he's a geyser, like he's been waiting to talk about it for a while. Robert wonders if he even has anyone to tell. "I was supposed to see him today, right? Just going into town, dinner and drinks, stuff like that. But then he cancelled on me at the last minute, just as I was leaving. That's not _like_ him. Or- or maybe I'm just being paranoid; maybe he did get called in to work. But this has never happened before."

The first thing that Robert picks up on is the word _boyfriend_. Then his mind supplies a hazy image of some brown-haired guy stood outside Aaron's flat, stood next to Aaron, opposite Robert, the opposite of Robert. It's disheartening, really, the way Aaron's suddenly got some massive fucking no entry sign surrounding him. It makes Robert's throat close up. But then he thinks, well, at least Aaron actually swings that way because most men tend not to. That's a positive at the very least. "I'm sorry to hear that," He says. Fight back the smile, force down the excitement. "He probably just is at work, you know." _I'm sure he wouldn't throw away a great thing like you_ , he adds silently.

"Yeah," Aaron sighs after a moment. He scratches the back of his head, turns up his nose slightly, and Robert's thumbs itch to smooth the lines away. "Yeah, you're probably right. There's nothing to worry about, he'll call me when he can."

Robert bites his lower lip, watches Aaron turn his phone off and shove it into his pocket. "Exactly," He breathes. _Exactly_.

  


**29th january, 2.31am**

It's late. Like, really fucking late, more morning than night. They didn't mean to stay out that long, but Robert figures time flies when you're having fun. It's the best night he's had in years.

They're both well past tipsy, leaning into each other and giggling like school kids. The air is cool but Robert feels warm, tingling and flushed and _happy_. He can't remember nights being this easy with any of his exes, can't remember the conversation being so refreshing, can't remember feeling so like himself.

Aaron's detailing some anecdote involving Cain Dingle and a caravan as they turn onto their street, punctuating the high points of the story with exaggerated gestures. Robert's laughing, full belly laughing, tears forming at the corner of his eyes. This feels so fresh.

But their block of flats is in view, a grey building with white doors, and Robert doesn't want the night to end. He entertains the thought of inviting Aaron back for a coffee, or a nightcap, or whatever the fuck else he can think of but then he remembers _boyfriend_. But then Aaron hadn't turned his phone back on for the rest of the night, maybe purposely ignoring his boyfriend, maybe for Robert or maybe just because he's annoyed, but either way, it still makes him feel like he's won the world.

Aaron's fallen silent as Robert has this internal struggle and before he knows it, they're in their corridor, between their front doors, so close to the end. He wants to rewind the last few hours. They're standing, then, facing each other and Robert can feel some kind of magnetic attraction that sets him swaying towards Aaron. He's pretty sure he's not imagining the younger man doing the same.

The air feels electric and thick, pressing into Robert's body until he can feel it and smell it and taste it. It tastes like anticipation, like things that are yet to come, and he _loves_ it. He watches Aaron; drinks in the way his eyes are half lidded, the way he's gazing up through his eyelashes, the way he's biting his lip, the way a flush is rising from his neck, the way his hair is curling slightly. He memorises the sight, stores it away for a rainy day, and just breathes. But the way Aaron's eyes are shining pushes the corner of his mouth up into a half smile, and god. Aaron's boyfriend must be a fucking idiot.

"Thank you," The younger man whispers, and his words sound as thick as the air he's pushing them into. "I had a great night, honestly. Just... Thank you." Then he's leaning up on his tiptoes; stretching, body lean and long and sharp, and Robert risks settling a hand onto his waist. It shocks Aaron for moment, but then he just grins: some great, dazzling, blinding smile that Robert has to close his eyes against, and before he knows it, there are lips on his cheek. They settle, for one moment, two, three, and he's holding his breath, fingers tightening around the curve of Aaron's hip.

And then he's gone.

Robert breathes out shakily, opens his eyes just in time to watch Aaron's door close on a cheeky smirk that sits on his face perfectly, and brings his hand up to the spot Aaron kissed.

It's still tingling.

  


**31st january, 11.34am**

It's been three days and Robert's had nothing but radio silence. He shouldn't have expected any different, really; should've known that when Aaron woke up to the lingering taste of whiskey and the hangover from hell he'd be weighed down with guilt and thoughts of his boyfriend.

Because Robert wasn't imagining it. He couldn't have been, because there's no way that Aaron didn't feel whatever this is too. He refuses to be alone in this. And he's not _moping_ , no matter what Louise had said when she stopped by his flat and saw him half way through a bottle of red wine and John Tucker Must Die. He's not that pathetic.

Maybe.

He doesn't want to see Aaron anyway, doesn't want to feel his insides squeeze and twist into a ball, doesn't want his heart to swell. He doesn't want this to affect him like it does.

So he stays locked up in his flat, calling in sick for the first time in his life. All because he had the best night of his life with someone who's taken.

What does that say about him?

On the afternoon of his impromptu sick day, everything gets suddenly loud. He can hear screaming, crying, shouting, and when he strains to listen harder, he's sure that's Aaron's voice, thick and wobbly, raw and coarse. His heart stops, his vision goes blurry, his head goes light. It's fucking _painful_. He's never imagined Aaron sounding like that.

He's debating going to make sure the younger man's okay when he hears an earth-stopping smashing sound, and he flies to stand immediately. What if Aaron's in danger, what if he's being burgled, what if he's being _hurt_ \- and then he hears a door slam, the angry pounding of footsteps leading away and he's out of his flat before he can even stop himself.

He knocks tentatively on the door, three short raps and no reply comes but he lets himself in anyway. He needs to make sure Aaron's safe. When he opens the door and has one foot over the threshold his world just- just stops moving. Aaron's in the middle of the room, on his knees with his fists in his hair and large, racking sobs shuddering through his body. His spine is shaking, head bobbing, breathing in deep gasps and Robert feels _sick_. He crosses the room in three large strides, crouches in Aaron's personal space and runs his eyes over him. He doesn't seem to be hurt, not physically, but Robert has a feeling he knows what this is about.

"Hey," He whispers soothingly as he places one hand on Aaron's back. He looks so small, like a boy, and god. God. Robert would do anything to stop this. Aaron's head snaps up, eyes wild with fear and anger, and he stares for a minute before he's sobbing again. It'd take a stronger man than Robert not to comfort Aaron, so he pulls him into a hug, fingers tracing soft, sweeping patterns over his shoulder blades until he's calmed slightly. "What's happened?"

Aaron takes in a deep breath and pulls himself back slightly, until he can see Robert's face, but he's still clutching the older man's biceps so hard that his knuckles are a sickly bright white. "He cheated on me," He says lowly, voice rough from yelling, and then he gazes towards his knees again as his bottom lip wobbles. "That night we went out. When he said he was working late... Turns out, he was off fucking one of my friends."

"Oh, Aaron..." Robert breathes, swiping his thumb across Aaron's cheek. He doesn't know what to _do_. So he decides to wing it, pulling Aaron up until they're both standing before lowering him gently onto the sofa. "It'll be okay. He never deserved you, anyway."

Aaron laughs at that, but it's humourless and dull. It sounds numb. "You didn't even know him."

"Don't need to," He says. He rounds the sofa, letting his fingers brush through the younger man's curls lightly and hopes that it's at least the tiniest bit comforting. "If he couldn't see how incredible you are, that's his loss." Aaron doesn't reply, so Robert takes that as an invitation to carry on with his half-baked plan. He's praising whatever higher presence that Aaron's flat is laid out exactly the same as his is, and he sets about running a bath as soon as he reaches the small room.

When he comes back, Aaron's shifted, laying across the two-seater in the fetal position. It hurts Robert's heart to see him like this, and he just feels so fucking helpless. "Running you a bath," He murmurs, taking a tentative seat on the edge of the coffee table. "Do you want food?" Aaron shakes his head no, tears still streaming down his face, creating red raw tracks. And all Robert can think of doing is pulling a blanket over him.

God, he's so fucking useless.

  


**31st january, 3.12pm**

Aaron's finally stopped crying. His phone, Robert noticed, is completely smashed, and his heart is probably no better. But he's dragged his duvet into the living room, changed into fresh clothes and is now curled up on the sofa, looking exhausted.

Robert's mostly just silent.

He doesn't know what to do, what to say, so he just sits there, arm round the other man's shoulders as neither of them watch whatever stupid sitcom is on TV. He never thought he'd be doing this.

Aaron's started fidgeting again, shifting his weight from one knee to the other, and he sighs restlessly. "You can go, you know," Robert turns to look at him in surprise and catches the downbeat look Aaron shoots him from the corner of his eye. "You're not obligated to stay and look after me."

"I don't do anything I don't want to," Robert replies easily. "I'm staying here because I don't want you to be alone. And I know you don't want to be, either." He turns his gaze back to the screen, but his attention is focused completely on Aaron. He feels him shift again, breathe out deeply, and he's looking at Robert properly now.

"Thank you," He whispers, and it sounds so sincere that Robert blinks against it. "You hardly know me and you're doing all this."

Robert drops his arm, turns his body towards Aaron, and looks him right in the eye. "You don't need to thank me. You need me, I'm not just going to leave you." Aaron shifts _again_ , draws himself up until he's sitting on his knees, and there's barely an inch between them. Robert can feel warm puffs of breath against his face, but he doesn't move, doesn't turn away, can't, so he just watches Aaron lean in and press their lips together gently. It's barely a kiss; just a brush of skin on skin, but suddenly the world stops spinning and everything goes silent. It's sparks and fireworks and every sense all at once. It's perfect.

"You don't..." Robert sighs, shifting away. He turns his head to the left slightly, watches Aaron from underneath his lashes, and studies the defeated look on his face. "You don't need to thank me like that. That's not why I'm here."

"I know that," Aaron snaps. He sounds affronted, but then his tone turns slightly desperate. "Did I read the signals wrong?"

Robert wipes his hands on his jeans, notices they're slightly clammy, and tries to even out his breathing. "No," He admits finally, dropping his gaze. "You didn't read the signals wrong. But you're not in a good place, Aaron. You've barely been single five minutes and I'm not going to take advantage of that."

"But I want this," He pleads, catching Robert's wrist between his fingers. He squeezes slightly, and the pressure makes the older man still. "Don't you want this?"

"Of course I do," Robert breathes quietly, eyes trained on the point of contact. He feels guilty for wanting it, for wanting Aaron. God, he's so vulnerable right now, and what kind of person would that make Robert?

"Then just let me." He says nothing, lifts his eyes again, and after a minute passes, Aaron leans in, kisses him properly, with passion and strength. Robert goes weak at the knees as he responds, automatically and completely, brushing his tongue against Aaron's lower lip.

And Robert would never be strong enough to turn him down.

  


**1st february, 9.43am**

When Robert wakes in the morning, the first thing he sees is the back of a head. _Aaron's_ head.

He doesn't even know how to feel.

They'd just spent the rest of the night as close as possible, with Aaron nestled into his chest. It was nice, peaceful even, with Aaron's gentle breathing keeping him company.

But is Aaron going to regret it?

Should Robert feel guilty?

He's so conflicted.

So he just lays there, eyes closed and breath even, waits for the minute Aaron wakes. It doesn't take long until he's feeling movement in the deep springs of the mattress, until he's feeling the muscles move beneath Aaron's t-shirt. But he waits, still.

Closed eyes, breath deep.

And then Aaron turns around, finally, and Robert can feel the tracking of his eyes on his face. He keeps still, unmoving, silent except for his mind, until Aaron shifts closer, closer, closer, and leaves a gift in the form of a tiny kiss dropped to the corner of his mouth.

Then he breathes out.

"How long have you been awake?" Aaron asks quietly, dropping his head back on the pillow. Robert opens his eyes; blinks once, twice, and watches the younger man's features come into detail. He studies the details, his straight nose, sharp cheekbones, soft beard. All he can do is force back a smile.

"Not long," He lies, but Aaron gives him a disbelieving look. "Alright, a while. But I didn't know how you'd be when you woke up. If you'd regret this, or..." He trails off, a question mark clearly screaming at the end. He wants to know. He _needs_ to know.

Aaron just glances at him for a minute, seemingly zoned out, but then he places his hand over Robert's resting between them, on top of the duvet, warm and calloused and making his heart kick-start. "I've wanted you since I first met you, Robert," He murmurs, not making eye contact. "I wanted you, but Josh was always there... And I don't want to hold back. This feels natural, right?"

"Josh," Robert echoes, feeling bitterness explode on his tongue. He's probably pulling a face too, definitely is, judging by the way Aaron gives his fingers a hard squeeze. "Yeah, it does. It's natural." He watches the blush bloom under Aaron's skin; thinks that a rose in the summer would be the perfect comparison if he was sure Aaron wouldn't thump him for it.

"I think me and Josh were done a long time ago," The younger man says carefully, lowly, like he's planning his words in his head. "I've been over him for a while. But it's safe, isn't it? Staying with someone because it's what you're used to." He looks ashamed, almost, like _he's_ the heartbreaker instead of the heartbroken.

Robert lets out a half laugh. He feels awkward right now, because Aaron is good and kind hearted and Robert is, well, anything _but_. "I wouldn't know," He admits, letting his eyes burn into Aaron's. "I've never really done safe."

"Ringing endorsement," Aaron snorts, and Robert shoots his hand out, buries his fingers in the soft cotton of Aaron's t-shirt and revels in the sweet laugh it elicits. The younger man fights back, wrestling with Robert's arms and losing.

He's pinned against the mattress, flat on his back with his wrists above his head and a stupid, dazzling grin on his face. Robert _loves_ him. "I'm going to kiss you now," He whispers. Aaron's smile drops, his eyes darkening slightly, and he pushes his hips up just as their lips meet.

Robert thinks that he's really in trouble now.

  


**2nd february, 2.21pm**

Robert Sugden can't stop smiling. Like, really, his cheeks hurt and his lips are numb, but Aaron kisses the feeling back into them more often than not and it's okay.

He even laughs more.

And nothing can bring him down.

Not even Louise and her massive fucking nose poking into his business.

"I can't believe you spent the _entire weekend_ in his bed and there wasn't even a little bit of under the cover action," She grins, helping herself to another glass of Robert's most expensive red, seriously. "Are you feeling alright?"

"He just broke up with his boyfriend, Louise," He sighs. He's never really understood the meaning of the word exasperated until now. Now, he feels it right down to his core. "Have some decorum."

She snorts, and Robert eyes the liquid sloshing around her glass worriedly. He doesn't want stains on his solid oak dining table. "You stuck your tongue down his throat not even an hour after he found out his boyfriend cheated on him and you're telling _me_ about decorum?"

"I think you've had enough wine now," He says firmly, snatching the glass away from her before she can even react. "And can you please stop talking about my love life?" He sips from her glass instead, waits for the inevitable teasing, and prays for Aaron to come save him. God knows he needs it.

"Why, gotta go running back to loverboy?" She asks, with the tiniest hint of malice in her tone. Most people wouldn't have noticed it, really, but Robert knows her too well and he's known her for too long to not feel the slice of it against his skin. It makes him uncomfortable to think about where it comes from. "Has he got you wrapped around his little finger?"

Robert pushes his chair back, the sound of it scraping against the wood floor deafening in the silence, but he tries not to notice, tries to keep his expression unwavering. "I really think it's time you go home. Get a taxi and sober yourself up."

"I was just asking," Louise pouts, standing up as well. She wobbles a little in her heels, and Robert braces himself to catch her before she manages to steady herself with a deep breath.

"Well, don't, Louise!" He snaps, storming through to the kitchen. He pours the rest of the wine into the sink, watches it swirl like blood blood blood, and places the glass on the side a little too heavily. It chips. "Just keep all your nasty opinions to yourself, alright? I don't need you making me feel guiltier than I already do." And he does. He feels it constantly: dripping from his bones and settling underneath his skin, pouring out of his mouth and sliding from his eyes. He feels like he's taking advantage, even when Aaron had told him for the fourth, fifth, tenth time that the feeling was mutual and no one was taking advantage of anyone.

Besides, Robert had decided, sometimes he needs to put himself first.

And if that meant going for what he wanted, then so be it.

"Maybe I should go," Louise says quietly, and Robert turns to see her standing in the doorway, the wooden frame towering over her body and making her look smaller than ever. She looks sad, sort of, maybe a bit subdued, and _fuck_ , all he ever does is hurt her, isn't it? He never means to.

"Yeah," He sighs, turning round again. He clenches his fists against the edge of the sink, counts the splatters of wine like polka dots and breathes quietly until he hears the door slam. He's finally alone.

Except he's not, because fingertips are grazing tentatively down the line of his spine and he jumps about three foot out of his skin before he catches sight of a familiar head of curls and _breathes_. "Are you okay?"

"How much of that did you hear?" He asks, turning and lifting one arm in invitation. Aaron accepts it, barrels forward so fast that the breath is knocked straight out of the older man's lungs and hugs him tight enough that the warmth of it is settling into skin and bones and organs. Robert's faintly reminded of a koala bear.

"Enough," Aaron says softly, and the words vibrate against Robert's skin. "I'm sorry she spoke to you like that."

It's moments like this, really. There's not been many of them, seeing as it's only been, y'know, three days, but it's moments like this that make Robert feel like he's won the lottery. He wonders what kind of good karma has brought him a man like this. He wonders if he should thank the God Almighty. Because Aaron Dingle is possibly the kindest, most soft hearted person he's ever met. "It's not your fault," He replies automatically as he cards his fingers through the curls at the crown of Aaron's skull.

"It's not yours either, Rob," The younger man says softly. He pulls back slightly, hands firmly gripping Robert's biceps and looks at him so fiercely that Robert feels all the breath leave his lungs. "You have _nothing_ to feel guilty for. I don't think I've ever felt more like myself than I do when I'm with you." He seals the admission with a kiss, hot and searing and solid, and Robert feels his knees go weak.

  


**13th february, 6.34pm**

Robert loves DIY SOS.

Aaron doesn't.

He's arguing his case at the minute, explaining how Nick Knowles is a god damn national treasure, and feeling his heart flutter at every little snicker Aaron lets out. He can feel the rise of the other man's shoulders every time he laughs, fit comfortably under Robert's right arm, head pressed against his ribcage, and Robert's so happy he feels like his chest's going to explode.

He loves this feeling.

And he's so engrossed in it, too, in the way his entire body tingles, even to the tips of his toes. In the way he's hyperaware of every tiny sound Aaron makes. In the way he can feel every muscle shifting under Aaron's skin.

That's probably why he doesn't hear his front door open.

What he does hear, though, is a female voice, distinctly high-pitched and Scottish, screeching his name. He half turns, just catching the way Louise's face falls and she stops in her tracks. But then she regains her posture, and puts on a dark-lipsticked grin that peaks a fraction too high on her cheeks to be real. "Sorry," She smiles, through gritted teeth and clenched fists. "I didn't realise you had company."

"Oh," Robert says, and he feels stuck for a moment, kind of dumbfounded. Louise knows about Aaron but she doesn't _know_ about him, not really. Because she just takes the piss and that, that is something Robert thought he'd left at school, with chavvy Year Eleven boys and giggly Year Eleven girls. So he's not told her much. "Louise, this is Aaron, my... Well. Aaron, this is Louise. My best friend." He stumbles through the introductions, untangling himself from Aaron the best he can without seeming rude to either party.

"Nice to meet you," Aaron nods, and he's smiling and it's real because Aaron Dingle is anything but rude. Robert knows that already.

Louise, on the other hand? Not quite so much. "Likewise." She says curtly, eyes stabbing daggers into Aaron's neck when she thinks Robert isn't looking. He stands up, presses his fingertips to the back of Aaron's head, and the younger man looks up with a slight glint in his eyes as Robert walks away. He uses the same fingertips to grasp Louise's elbow and pull her into the kitchen, but she jerks back like she's been burnt. She's still slack-jawed, stare unwavering at Robert as he leads her into the other room. "What are you doing here?" He asks lowly, resting against the counter. He crosses his arms over his chest – it's protection and it's shit, but it's the best he can do.

"I came to apologise," Louise says slowly, like she's testing out every word. "I didn't think _he'd_ be here."

Robert frowns at her, and she has the sense to look sheepish. "Why wouldn't he be here?"

"I thought maybe he was just on the rebound," She explains like it's obvious, and she's condescending as fuck. Robert hates it. "Maybe he just wanted to forget about his ex."

"Or maybe," Robert hisses, pushing himself away from the counter. He can feel his anger, boiling his blood and bubbling beneath his skin. "Maybe he wants to be here. I'm not forcing him to do anything." He paces, wears invisible holes in the floor and actively refuses to look at his best friend. He's not even sure if she deserves that title right now. "And maybe you should leave." He speaks into the cutting silence, feeling Louise's eyes on him.

She sighs and steps into his line of sight, forcing him to look up. "Look what he's doing to us!" She cries quietly. "He's tearing us apart and it's not even been two weeks."

Robert can feel the crescent marks denting his palm from his nails, and he's seriously fucking furious now. "I think you're doing that all by yourself," He snarls. "Let yourself out, yeah?" He doesn't look at her as he hears her retreating footsteps.

"I don't wanna cause fights between you and your friends," Aaron mutters darkly when Robert drops himself back onto the sofa. The skin around his thumbnail has seen better days, judging by the way his teeth are clamped firmly around it, and he continues staring at the TV.

"It's alright," Robert offers gently. "She's not being much of a friend at the minute anyway."

  


**22nd february, 5.29pm**

Today is a _good day_.

The sun is shining, it's almost fifteen degrees, and the birds are singing.

Oh, and did Robert mention that he got a promotion?

He feels a bit like he's flying. He tells Aaron as such, thumbs tapping furiously at his phone screen and he grins at the simple reply of _< 3_.

And now he deserves to go home, order a pizza, drink a bit too much wine and have a decent nights sleep.

So he does.

When he gets home, his front door is unlocked, swinging open easily. He never leaves his door open, what the fuck? But then he smells something mouthwatering, spies the tiny coffee table set with plates and glasses and-

 _Oh_.

Aaron comes through from the kitchen, carrying a steaming pot of pasta sauce and Robert grins so hard he feels like it's going to split his face. "Surprise," The younger man whispers, leaning up to press a soft kiss to Robert's cheek.

"Certainly is," Robert laughs, fitting one hand comfortably around the curve of Aaron's waist, and he squeezes, says _thank you, this is great_ in the bruises his fingertips leave.

"C'mon," Aaron murmurs, brushing his lips against Robert's in a way that makes the older man feel dizzy. "Let's eat." He walks away, socked feet padding against the hardwood floor, and settles himself on one of the cushions on the floor. He glances up under his lashes, smiles a bit, and, _fuck_.

He's really in deep.

  


**22nd february, 6.40pm**

"I'm so full," Robert groans, crawling around the table. He collapses on Aaron, fits his head on the soft curve of his stomach and feels rough fingers against his scalp.

"You did go back for seconds," Aaron says, and there's a teasing edge to his voice. It settles with the sparks coming from everywhere their bodies touch, and Robert just grins.

"You're a good cook," He sighs, clamping his hand around Aaron's thigh. He wonders if he's the only one feeling the sparks too, if Aaron's heart is skipping every other beat every time they touch.

He hopes he's not alone in this.

Aaron laughs, short and sweet and electric, and Robert feels drunk on it, love drunk, maybe. "It was only bolognese, Rob," He murmurs, shifting a bit. Robert whines, wraps an arm around Aaron's waist and completely stops him from moving. "Besides, you deserve it."

"Do I?" Robert asks, putting an infliction in his voice. He's fishing, he knows it, but it's playful and nice and so, so natural. "Wonder what I did to deserve all this." When Aaron chuckles again, Robert can feel the vibrations flowing into the side of his face, settling beneath his skin and setting his bones off.

"Well, you became an _actual adult_ and you're finally getting somewhere with your job. I think that's enough." The younger man grins. It's in his voice, laced around his words and embroidered into his syllables, and Robert sits up just to see that stupidly brilliant smile.

He squeezes Aaron's knee, revels in the yelp it draws from him. "Says the mechanic," He teases, the furthest from unkind he's ever been, and his fingers ghost up Aaron's thigh, brush past his stomach and settle into the dents between his ribs.

"Robert!" Aaron chokes, face lit up from every angle. He's laughing- scrap that, he's _giggling_ , and Robert files ticklish away right next to likes cars and heavy metal, in the mental folder neatly labelled 'Things About Aaron'. He finally backs off, and Aaron's gasping for breath with red, red cheeks and a beautiful glint in his eyes. "I'm a great mechanic, thank you."

"I bet I'm better," Robert fires back, and Aaron's laughing again, half-silenced by the kiss the older man surprises him with. Their lips touch, sharply, like a spark of electric and- suddenly it's not funny anymore. No one's laughing.

Aaron pulls back half an inch, eyes flicking between Robert's eyes and his lips, and the atmosphere is static static static, crackling and thick, and then. Then he dives right back in.

It's a battle for a minute, two; a clash of teeth and the sting of harsh breath and the press of tongues. But Robert tips them without warning, lowers Aaron onto his back. He hooks one hand under the younger man's thigh, presses his fingertips into denim-clad skin and muscle, and rests his weight on the hand splayed next to Aaron's head. When he pulls back, Aaron is gasping for air, keening slightly, eyes wide and dark and glassy, and Robert just knows. He knows he's done for.

Robert leans down again, nudges Aaron's nose with his own until his lips part, softly, gently, dark eyelashes brushing against Robert's own pale skin, and this time, he's pliant. He lets Robert trace the taste of his mouth, lets him revel in strong peppermint and bitter coffee, and when Robert lazily drags his tongue down soft stubble and the tanned skin of his throat, he gasps. "Robert," He murmurs, voice husky and deep, and Robert lifts his head to see dark, dark eyes staring at him intensely. His irises are almost black, like the deep navy of a midnight sky, shimmering like constellations. "Take me to bed."

So Robert does.

He places one hand across the span of Aaron's back, hot and heavy, and brings them both to their feet. And then he pauses, studies the flush of Aaron's cheeks, the way his lips are red and swollen and well-kissed, and, well- he kisses him again. Hard and deep, tongues sparking against each other, and he uses his free hand to push at Aaron's hip, guiding him towards the bedroom.

He feels like he's been waiting his entire life for this moment.

He pulls back for a minute when they're standing by the bed, and swipes his thumb across the length of Aaron's cheekbone, flushed red and warm to the touch. Aaron stares back, lips parted and wet, breathing out shakily and then his fingers are on the buttons of Robert's shirt. It feels like he's trembling from the way his fingertips press into the centre of Robert's chest, and his eyes are downcast, focused, gaze burning hot. When he's finished, when the shirt is open and Robert actually feels _nervous_ for the first time since he was sixteen and losing his virginity, Aaron just places his palms over Robert's chest, smooths them down the long expanse of his body and leans up to kiss the older man, softly, gently, as he strips the shirt away.

Robert feels his heart race, increasing almost three times the speed, and for a second he's genuinely wondering if it's going to burst right out of his body and leave a trail of destruction in his wake. But then his hands are on Aaron's shoulders, pushing his hoodie off the line of his body, and he forgets all about it. His fingertips trail up the veins of Aaron's neck, settling on his jaw and in the short hairs at the base of his skull as he deepens the kiss, and Aaron groans, curling his fingers tightly around Robert's biceps.

When his hands travel down and grip Aaron's t-shirt, though, the younger man hesitates. He tries to hide it with the kiss, by parting his lips and breathing harshly through his nose, but Robert senses it – could probably feel it a mile off. He pulls away with a soft frown, full of concern and worry and everything like that, but Aaron refuses to meet his gaze. He's still flushed, cheeks red and bright, but it looks different this time. He looks- he looks _ashamed_ , and Robert can feel his throat close up. "If you don't want to..." He murmurs, releasing the hem of Aaron's t-shirt in favour of tracing the skin under Aaron's eyes, and when he looks up, Robert feels breathless.

His eyes are bright, clear and defiant, even if the way he bites his lip betrays the confidence, but he hooks his fingers through Robert's belt loops instead, like he's refusing to let him move. "I want to," He says quietly, and in one swift movement he pulls his t-shirt off.

Robert drops his gaze quickly, for no longer than a second, but he still sees silvery lines and pale criss-crosses patterning Aaron's stomach. He doesn't stare though, doesn't let himself because he knows that this is what Aaron is ashamed about. He moves forward again, crowds himself straight into Aaron's space and kisses him fervently. He places a palm flat over Aaron's torso and feels him breathe in sharply just as his own heart stutters.

But right now he's got other things to think about, like the way Aaron's hands are fumbling with the button on his jeans, and the way he's unzipping them now, or the way Robert kicks them off. Aaron sighs softly as Robert deepens the kiss again, as he takes off his jeans too, and honestly, he doesn't think he's ever been this attracted to anyone in his entire life.

Robert pushes Aaron back to the bed, lowering him as soon as the back of his knees hit it, and then he shifts them, pulls them up so they're comfortable and then- then he turns the lamp on and drinks in how Aaron's breathing harshly through his mouth and his dark, dark eyes. "I want to see you," He says to the younger man's questioning gaze, and that seems to placate him as he softens back into the bed.

And then, then Robert can't stop himself. He traces a soft touch from Aaron's cheek to his chest, thumbing over his nipples as his teeth graze across his jaw, then further still, down, down, until he's tracing the length of Aaron's cock through his boxers with his thumb and forefinger, physically feeling the breath that he rakes in at the contact. He groans at the feeling himself, again as he feels the damp patch where he's leaking, and he bites down on Aaron's neck, stopping this from getting too embarrassing too soon.

"Robert," Aaron gasps, bucking his hips up. Robert can feel the length of him, hot and heavy and unbelievably hard against his thigh, and he bites down a bit harder. "Fuck me." And Robert doesn't have to be told twice. Before he's even thought about it, he's pulled their underwear off, and he's reaching over to the bedside table. _Lube, condom, fuck, Robert, come on_ , he's thinking, but when he's finally got them and pulls back, the sight of Aaron stops him in his tracks.

He's just laying there, on Robert's bed, in Robert's bedsheets, naked and gasping. There's a slight sheen of sweat covering his skin, making him look like he's _sparkling_ and there's a deep, gorgeous flush decorating his chest. His lips are parted, shiny and wet, with eyes that are almost black with lust, and he has one fist buried in the sheets. The other is lazily circling his cock, twisting on the upstroke, but all he's looking at is Robert. It's all he's focusing on.

Robert's breath catches in his throat and he fumbles with pouring lube onto his fingers as he presses down to kiss Aaron. His tongue pushes into Aaron's mouth just as he pushes his first finger in, and Aaron moans slightly, caught in surprise. But Robert swallows it, tastes the helpless gasps that Aaron makes as he pushes into the knuckle, and feels the vibrations on his tongue as he twists his finger and adds a second.

"You feel so good," Aaron moans when Robert hooks his fingers, and when he brushes his prostate he gasps. His whole body shakes as his hands fly round to Robert's back and his blunt nails dig in, leaving paths of the right kind of pain. It only serves to spur him on further. "Come on, come on," Aaron begs, eyes squeezed shut. His head tips back as he groans, and Robert sucks a bruise onto his throat. "I'm ready, _fuck_ , just-"/

"Okay," Robert says, and he feels completely dumb or something, but his shaking hands tear at the condom wrapper anyway. He covers his cock with lube, enough so that it won't hurt because he knows he hasn't prepped Aaron enough but he's too fucking impatient. And then he lines himself up, one hand around the base of his cock and the other next to Aaron's head, and the look in the younger man's eyes is nothing but pure anticipation.

He pushes in, feels the heat around him and inside him and everywhere, and the breath leaves his lungs at the same time Aaron lets out a deep, velvety groan as he bottoms out. "Don't move," He begs, gasping for air in short, sharp bursts but he's writhing, circling back on Robert's cock with tiny movements.

Robert's powerless to resist now, and he leans down to kiss Aaron hotly, fucking his mouth as he pulls his hips back and slams back inside. He does it again, once, twice, enough for Aaron's lips to slide across his cheek. But when he thrusts a third time he changes the angle, aims upwards instead, and Aaron cries out loudly. His back arches, cock dragging deliciously against Robert's stomach, and the older man can't help but feel smug.

Aaron's chanting his name, wrecked half-sobs as he pushes in as deep as he can get, but it's not _enough_. He hooks a hand under the thick muscle of Aaron's thigh and pulls it up, round his waist where Aaron tightens the grip and then he slams back in, deeper and harder and drawing a guttural groan from the back of his throat. He's panting now, forehead pushed against Aaron's, lips pressed together but not kissing. They're just breathing, on each other, in each other's mouths, and everything feels hotdamptight _good_. It's too much, but it's not enough.

He drags his thumb over the head of Aaron's cock, feels the wetness of pre-come as he drags his hand down, fisting him hot and heavy. Aaron's fingers shoot to his own hair, tightening around the curls as if he's trying to take control of something, anything, but Robert uncurls them, grips them with his own and pushes them against the mattress next to his face. "Robert," He half-sobs again, and his tongue is flicking out to wet his lower lip, and then his teeth are digging into the soft flesh, but Robert stops that too, presses a messy, wild kiss onto him instead, forcing his mouth open and tracing his taste. The kiss breaks as the curve of his spine arches again with a deep, breathless moan, and Robert's dragging his teeth along the razor-sharp line of his jaw, sucking and licking as he goes, when he hears Aaron's words, a husky whisper in his ear. "I'm gonna come."

He grips Aaron's cock tighter, drags the blunt edge of his thumb nail over the slit and listens to the constant, breathy gasps coming from Aaron's mouth and then, then everything feels tight and hot, streaks of come covering his fist and Aaron's stomach and-

And everything goes white, fading to black before edging into grey with blinding white heat burning behind his eyelids as he comes. He's half-aware of the way he moans Aaron's name, because there's nothing but Aaron, around him, in his mind, under his skin, coursing through his veins.

He comes back a moment later, eyes shut tightly and slumped on top of the younger man, and he's not aware of the tears wetting his skin until Aaron's lazily wiping them away with two fingers, swiping under both eyes before he wraps his arms around Robert's shoulders. "You're shaking," He murmurs, running the pads of his fingers through blond hair like sunshine, and Robert shifts off of him. He doesn't miss the gasped moan that Aaron lets out as his cock slips out of him, and he opens his eyes just in time to see Aaron's eyes glaze over, but he lays on his back next to Aaron anyway.

They're not touching now, but he's still everywhere, still all over Robert, in smell and phantom touches and emotions, and he closes his eyes again as Aaron pulls the condom off of him and then returns to curl into his side. He's clearly pushing for something here, even though Robert never had him down as a post-sex cuddler, but he wraps an arm round his lover's shoulders anyway. Aaron fits his head against his chest, and Robert wonders if he can hear his heartbeat, can feel the thump-thump-thump through his skin, but his thoughts are interrupted when Aaron's fingers curl into the dip of his collarbone, when Aaron's thumb rests at the base of his throat. "You're too good to me," Aaron sighs, voice raw and sounding well-fucked, and Robert presses a fond kiss to the crown of his skull. He's thinking of something to say, some way to reply that won't betray his mind, but Aaron's breath evens out into a soft, peaceful pattern before he can speak.

 _Fuck_ , Robert thinks.

 _This is too much_ , Robert thinks.

 _I love you_ , Robert thinks.

  


**22nd february, 9.04am**

Robert hates mornings.

But there's something that tells him that waking up in the morning with Aaron is going to completely change his mind.

When he wakes up, he expects warmth, curled up next to his side, heavy on his arms and real against his chest. But instead he feels softness, lips on his own, knees bracketing his hips.

He feels Aaron on top of him.

He's hard already, cock resting on his stomach because he didn't bother to get dressed again last night, and Aaron's kissing him, tongue darting into his mouth in soft, short licks when he parts his lips, and he groans tiredly, bringing up a hand to tangle in Aaron's curls. "Good morning to you too," He whispers when Aaron shifts down, sucks against his neck with teeth and tongue, and he can already feel the skin bruising purple and pink.

Aaron glances up at him beneath his lashes, a softness in his eyes that comes from just waking up, and he grins mischievously, resuming to press kisses on Robert's skin. He swirls his tongue around the older man's left nipple, teeth grazing teasingly before he bites, softly, sharply, and Robert gasps. His back arches and he's keening, and it'd be embarrassing if it wasn't for the way Aaron moans, vibrating from his throat and through Robert's skin.

"Aaron," He breathes, and he's almost in disbelief, watching the way that Aaron travels down his torso, leaving a trail of wet heat with his tongue. He bites the soft skin of Robert's tummy as he settles himself between his thighs and then he's moving further, south south south, until he's licking at the skin above Robert's pubic line, his nails digging crescent marks into his hips.

"Your skin tastes sweet," Aaron groans, curling his fist around the base of Robert's cock as he drags his nose through the dark, coarse curls. "You smell so fucking good." And Robert feels movement, but he's not sure what it is until- oh. He looks down, fixes his gaze on Aaron, who's _touching himself_ as he takes in Robert's scent and his taste, he's _getting off on this_ , and fuck, Robert's definitely not going to last long.

It doesn't matter though, not in the long run, because then Aaron's got his mouth on Robert's cock and swallows him down all in one go, breathing through his nose and still palming at himself. Robert swears, curses, cries, because Aaron's fucking _mouth_ is moving, he's bobbing up and down and his fingers are teasing with a feather touch over Robert's balls. He tightens his fingers in Aaron's hair, the silky soft curls the only thing that are keeping him grounded, and Aaron groans when he pulls a little too hard, a little too sharply, but he sounds wrecked and turned on, and the vibrations shoot straight to pool of heatwantneedlust in Robert's stomach.

He scratches his short nails across Aaron's scalp experimentally, and he likes that too, judging by the way he whimpers breathily. "I'm not gonna last long," Robert warns through gasps, and he gazes down at Aaron, pulls hard and sharp on his hair so that he'll look up and then- then he's looking right back, eyes bright blue and shimmering, warm and sleepy. His lips are stretched, wrapped around Robert's cock and wet and soft and he just looks fucked. He looks fucked, there's no other way to describe it, with one of Robert's hands in his hair and his mouth on Robert.

Robert drops his other hand, skims his fingertips along the side of Aaron's face before he presses the pad of his thumb against the hollow of his cheek, and that's _himself_. He can feel himself, inside Aaron, and Aaron's all around him and looking at him and touching himself and. And stars explode behind his eyelids as his hips jerk, and he comes more than he's ever come in his entire life, but Aaron swallows it, licks his cock clean with a moan that sounds like he's actually enjoying it. "I love your taste," He gasps, dragging himself up the length of Robert's body to kiss him. He pushes his tongue into Robert's mouth, and Robert loves the way his own taste is mixing with Aaron's, like something real, something perfect.

Aaron's still touching himself so Robert drops his hand, knocks Aaron's fist out of the way as he takes control of the kiss and then fists him once, twice, and then he's coming with a groan that Robert feels deep in his chest.

Aaron's panting against his cheek, half on top of him with an arm gradually tightening around his neck, and Robert drops a soft kiss to his temple. He can taste the saltiness of sweat, can feel his breathing evening out again, and he shifts them both, circling both arms around Aaron's waist as he buries his nose into his shoulder. "Don't you have to go to work?"

"I called in sick," Aaron replies easily, carding his fingers through the hair at the nape of Robert's neck. "I figured I could spend all weekend in bed with you if I was so inclined." Robert grins, and Aaron must feel it because he snickers, tightening his grip on Robert's hair, and then he's pressing a lazy kiss to his head.

And Robert? He feels electric, like there's a current sliding underneath his skin, made of happiness and warmth and contentedness and, well, _love_.

  


**2nd march, 1.01pm**

The only good thing about Mondays is lunchtime. And that's only because the canteen at Robert's office sells the pasta bake that he likes, and that paired with an americano makes the afternoon go a little bit quicker.

Today he just feels weird though, like he's missing his other half, his heart, his soul, his _mind_. He'd spent the entire weekend in bed with Aaron, kissing him and sucking him and fucking him, and they'd laughed until they cried, with fingers tracing patterns and lips following the same paths.

Robert had never felt more like _himself_.

But it was a shock to the system when Aaron had left him in bed with a kiss and a heated promise of later, and then he'd had to drag himself out of bed and... Well. Now he was at work.

And he glances up from his dinner just in time for his day to get even worse.

"You're positively glowing," Louise chirps, billowing through the office in a flurry of bright lipstick and New Look heels, and the smile on her face is way, way too fake.

Robert just glares. "You shouldn't be here," He mutters, drinking his americano just to do _something_ even though it burns his tongue. Then he feigns interest in his laptop, ignores Louise's sigh, and taps at the keyboard with disdain.

"You can't be mad at me forever, Robert." She huffs, grabbing a chair and wheeling it so she's sitting right next to him. She's seriously in his personal fucking bubble right now, and he can smell her cheap perfume and all the hair products she uses. It's stifling, honestly, and all he can think about is how he wishes he was with Aaron.

"Might be a different story if you would've apologised," He snaps, finally turning to face her. She doesn't even look affected, not really, just kind of grimacing at him as she taps her nails fucking _irritatingly_ against his desk.

She sighs again, and rests her chin on her fist. "I am sorry," She murmurs. "You're my best friend, Rob. I never meant to hurt you."

"I miss you," He mutters, casting his eyes towards the ground. "I miss you, but the only way we can carry on is if you never mention him again."

"Got it," She says solemnly, holding three fingers up in a scout's honour.

Robert frowns to cover his grin, but he's slowly cracking. "I mean it, Louise," He warns. "Never again. Not good, not bad. Never."

She grins then, a real, pearly white grin that blinds him as she tackles him for a hug. "Glad to have you back," She cries into his ear.

  


**2nd march, 6.05pm**

When Robert gets home, the first thing he does is knock on Aaron's door. It's a split second before the younger man is opening it, and then Robert is crowding into his space, dropping his briefcase onto the sofa and grabbing his face. He kisses kisses kisses him, until his lips are numb and Aaron's breathless, and then he pulls back with a blinding, lazy smile.

"What was that for?" Aaron laughs, pushing Robert's blazer off his shoulders before hanging it up.

Robert kind of can't stand away to be from Aaron right now, as much as he hates to admit it, so he approaches him from behind and grabs his waist, peppering kisses onto his neck. "Just had a good day is all," He sighs, dragging his nose through Aaron's hair. He smells so good, like oil and sweat and everything masculine, and there's no room for him to even dream that Aaron's a woman. He wouldn't want to, anyway. "Louise has apologised. We're good now."

Aaron turns round and his answering grin is astounding, really, breathtaking, and he looks so fucking _pleased_ that Robert can't help but kiss him again. "I'm happy for you," He sighs against Robert's lips. "You can't go round losing friends at your age, you probably won't make new ones."

Robert tickles him, digs his fingers into the space between his ribs before Aaron can react and relishes in the tiny giggle the younger man releases. "Cheeky," He murmurs, before walking away to pick up his laptop. "Do you fancy Chinese? My treat." And then he's flinging himself onto the sofa and bringing up Just Eat before Aaron's even moved.

"Sounds good," Aaron replies, lowering himself onto the sofa a lot more softer than Robert just had. "But I'm serious, Rob. I'm glad you and Louise have sorted things out." He drums a rhythm onto Robert's thigh mindlessly, but they're both aware of it, the way sparks fly from the contact.

"Well, she's the only family I've got," Robert answers. He's not even thinking, not really, not paying attention as he browses the menu. "Chow mein do you?" But Aaron doesn't reply, so he lifts his head with a frown. Aaron's just _staring_ at him, with some weird, far-away look in his eyes, and he raises an eyebrow.

"What about Vic?" Aaron says quickly, all in one breath. He's gone red, flushed at the cheeks, but Robert can't read the expression on his face no matter how hard he tries. "She's your family, you have her. She's your _sister_."

"Do I though?" He counters with a groan. He doesn't want to do this today, or any day for that matter. "Do I have her? Because she hasn't spoken to me for four years, Aaron." He slams the lid of his laptop shut and breathes through his nose, willing away the anger that's threatening to bubble to the surface.

"Maybe if you'd _talk_ to her-" Aaron starts.

But no. No. Aaron doesn't know anything about this, bar what he's heard from Victoria, and he doesn't know. He doesn't know. "She has my number too, you know!" He cries, flying to his feet. "She could call me, but she _doesn't_. And have you not thought that there's a reason for that?" And then he's stalking down the short, stifling hallway, to slam himself into the bathroom. He locks the door with shaking hands, paces once, twice, in a circle around the small room before sitting on the closed toilet lid, hands in his hair.

He's there for minutes, hours; he doesn't even care, just trying to stop the spill of tears and the memories that are forcing back into his mind. Tries to stop thoughts of Andy, of Katie, of the disappointment on Victoria's face, of the tight line of Diane's lips.

He tries to stop it all with his hair knotted around his fingers, tugging sharply to remind him to breathe.

"Robert?" He hears Aaron call softly. His voice is muffled through the thick wood of the door, but Robert can still pick out the sadness tinging his voice, the way he seems- he seems subdued. He hates himself for putting that in Aaron's voice. No one ever should. Because things, things had been _so fucking good_ for the past seventy-two hours, and this was a mess. "I'm... I'm sorry, Robert."

He reaches up, one long arm unlocking the door, and he strains to hear the click and Aaron's deep breath that follows before the door's pushed open. "You don't know anything about that," He says quietly, but his voice is still thick, still choked with emotion, and he tries to swallow against the lump in his throat. "You don't know who I was."

"It doesn't matter who you were," Aaron whispers, dropping to his knees in front of Robert. He reaches out one hand, places it tentatively on the older man's knee like he's scared of the touch, like it's going to burn, like Robert's going to fly at him or cry or just break, but he exhales cooly when nothing happens. "Because Victoria still loves you; she still misses you. And I know who you are _now_. And I know she'd be proud of you if she knew, too."

"Aaron," Robert breathes. He's still getting his head round how nice he's being, given the way that Robert had snapped at him. He's so good. "I wasn't- I wasn't like this. The last time I was in the village, I was nasty. All I- All I cared about was the money my fiancée had. And Katie just wanted to ruin that, she wanted to destroy everything I'd worked for."

"What did you do?" Aaron asks, and he actually sounds afraid, like he doesn't want to know the answer, like he should run or flee or- but then his fist is curling around Robert's wrist, gently pulling his fingers away from his hair. He lines their palms up, folds his fingers over Robert's and the older man just watches. No one's ever treated him like this.

"Ruined their marriage?" He says with a self-deprecating laugh. "Only what was expected of me, really." And it was. No one had even seemed surprised, really, just angry and disappointed, and, well. Robert had ruined his own relationship, too.

Aaron sighs, a warm stream of air against both of their knuckles, and Robert looks at him carefully. "But that's not you anymore, is it? That's not you."

"No." He says, with finality, with firmness. It surprises himself, like he's finally managed to lock that part of him away and throw away the key. Like he wants to be better for Aaron.

"Then you're fine, aren't you? Because that doesn't sound like the Robert Sugden I know. The Robert Sugden I know is kind and sweet and would do anything for his loved ones. That's the you I know and like," And he accentuates his words with a soft kiss, lips on lips, closed mouthed and warm, and Robert feels like he can breathe a bit better. "Now let's forget all about this and order that Chinese. Then we can put a film on and act like soppy teenagers. Deal?"

Robert lets himself grin, unguarded and real.

It feels a lot like love.

  


**13th march, 3.44pm**

"I wanna take you out tonight," Robert sighs into his phone, listening to Aaron breathing on the other end. He's been on a business trip and it feels like it's been weeks (even if it's only been two nights). He's trying to ignore what that means.

"Like a date?" Aaron laughs, sounding distant and tinny. But the sound of his voice still sends shockwaves through Robert, and he closes his eyes in content.

"Like a date," He confirms. He just _misses_ Aaron; the warmth of his body and the steady thumpthumpthump of his heart.

"Okay," Aaron agrees easily, but there's a hint of amusement in his voice. "When are you home?"

Robert checks his watch, glances out of the window and huffs a bit. This train couldn't be any slower. "About an hour, so have a shower, get yourself ready. I wanna see your best suit," He smiles. He's feeling flirty, (he doesn't think he's ever actually been like this, well, _ever_ ), but there's some kind of magnetic attraction pulling him to Aaron, and he wants to make him smile and laugh. He wants to be the reason his face lights up. "And I don't mean your court suit."

"Little shit," Aaron murmurs fondly, and Robert can picture the lines around his eyes softening, the corners of his lips turning upwards. "I'll see you later."

Small victories.

  


**13th march, 7.03pm**

The taxi pulls up at some tiny Italian hole-in-the-wall restaurant that Robert had found on Trip Advisor, and Aaron looks so pleased. Robert had remembered that Italian is his favourite, and he works it in his favour - Italian, check; not too flashy, check; a decent selection of beers, check.

It's the perfect date.

And Robert's going to be the perfect gentleman, so he gets out of the taxi first, rounds the car to open the door for Aaron – who laughs (bordering on a cackle, to be honest) – before opening the door to the restaurant for him as well. He can feel Aaron's sparkling eyes on him as he tells the waitress about their reservations, can feel the heat of his grin as he orders them both beers, and sees the softness in the roundness of his cheeks as he reads the menu.

It's everything he's ever wanted, really: the sharing of soft smiles and an electric connection.

The conversation is easy, too, _so_ easy, and Aaron is actually laughing at his jokes. It's a win, all things considered.

But that's something Robert's learnt throughout his life – if something seems too good to be true, it usually is.

"I'll have the magherita pizza, please," He tells the waitress politely, but his gaze is firmly stuck on Aaron, who's flushing bright red under the scrutiny. He's smiling, kind of, this tiny half-smile where his bottom lip is caught between his teeth, and his shoulders are shaking with silent laughter.

He looks like a fucking angel.

But then Aaron's freezing, smile dropping and he's completely frowning and- what the fuck? Is that a _hand_ on his arm? He glances up at the waitress, who's pulling what she probably thinks are her best bedroom eyes, and Robert feels his whole face fall. "And is there anything else I can get you, sir?" She practically purrs, and the - god help him - seduction dripping off her words is sickening.

"No," He says shortly. "No thank you, my date and I are both fine." And then he turns his gaze away, stares hard at the tablecloth and counts backwards from ten to distract himself from the awkwardness.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

"Faggots," He hears her scoff quietly as she walks away, and when Robert dares to gaze at Aaron again, the younger man is biting the skin around his thumbnail.

Seven.

Six.

"Are you okay?" Aaron asks softly. He's peering at Robert from under his lashes, and he looks _anxious_ , but he breathes out softly when the older man smiles a bit. He knocks their ankles together softly, and Robert hooks his foot around Aaron's to stop him from moving away. "We can leave if you want."

"No," Robert says firmly. "We're staying, okay? I wanted to take you out, we're out. One bigot waitress isn't going to ruin our night."

Aaron grins in response.

And Robert's determined that things are going to go smoothly from there.  
Their food is brought out (by a different waitress, this time), and Robert feels a sense of dread at Aaron's grimace. "It's cold," He sighs, poking at his pizza with his index finger. "Come on, Robert, I just want to go home now." But then he drops his fork, face pale like he's seen a ghost and- Jesus, someone _else_ is at their table.

The man has dark curly hair, a square jaw and a steely look in his eyes that's kind of terrifying, and Robert feels like he should know him but he can't quite place it. He frowns, is about to ask who he is, but he's interrupted. "Move on already, I see?" The man spits with a disgusted tone to his voice.

"Josh..." Aaron says quietly, sounding dejected. Robert's speechless, staring between the two of them, and oh, _fuck_ , it's Aaron's ex. The cheater, his mind supplies.

"Bet it started before you and I were even finished," He snarls, and his hands are clenched into fists. The expression on his face is raising Robert's hackles, and he tenses. He doesn't know what he's preparing for, but he does at the same time. "I know what you're like, Aaron. You're a dirty little _slut_ -"

Robert silences him by standing up, the wooden legs of his chair creating a deafening screech against the tiles. "Like you can fucking talk," He hisses, pointing a finger. "You're the one that cheated on him, you're the one that broke his heart. You clearly don't know him at all if you think he would do that."

Josh just smirks, puffing out his chest like he thinks he's threatening or something. "He wasn't that upset if he's already jumping into bed with you," He laughs. He sounds _nasty_.

And then Robert's seeing red, flying forward, and he knows his fists are ready but he's blocked by a solid mass, by- "Robert," Aaron whispers, and the older man breathes through his nose, focuses on the two points of heat that are Aaron's hands on his chest. "Come on, we're going." And he barely registers Aaron throwing notes on the table as he guides him out of the restaurant.

  


**13th march, 11.46pm**

"Robert," Aaron sighs, dragging a light touch down the tense line of Robert's back. "I'm sorry about tonight." He gently nuzzles his nose against Robert's bare shoulder before kissing the skin, and the contact makes him shiver.

"It's not your fault," Robert replies. He turns over, watches the curves of Aaron's body in the moonlight, watches the way his eyes sparkle and shimmer. "It's not. I just don't understand how he can _say_ those things about you, Aaron. After everything he did-"

“Don’t,” Aaron interrupts, tangling their fingers together. He bites on his bottom lip, worries the skin for a second, and Robert just watches. “Don’t let it get to you. It’s what he wants. Everything he does, he does it for a reaction.”

Robert breathes out deeply, lets his fingertips trace the dark hairs up Aaron’s arm, and he can physically feel him shiver. “Tonight wasn’t anything I’d planned it to be,” He murmurs, tugging Aaron closer.

The younger man shifts; rests his head in the crook between Robert's arm and his shoulder, and he lowers his splayed hand across his torso. His palm is hot, burning white on Robert's stomach, and his eyelashes brush against his skin when he closes his eyes. "It's fine," He whispers, lips moving against Robert's chest. "We can do it another time. _Away_ from here."

And then he's fast asleep, breaths deep and even and matching the pace of Robert's heart.

  


**22nd april, 5.40pm**

Robert Sugden is twenty-nine and he's finally fucking content.

He has a great job, great friends and a great boyfriend (he thinks that's what they are but, well, they're _men_ and they don't talk about these things. He's happy to just assume anyway).

And now he's going to go home, cook his boyfriend the best dinner he's ever had in his life, and then he's going to eat the birthday cake Aaron had tried - and failed - to hide from him and have sex until he literally cannot.

He's _happy_. He's truly, ridiculously happy, and he can't stop the grin that's splitting his face as he climbs the stairs to his flat. He's determined to make this the best birthday he's ever had.

"Honey, I'm home!" He calls with a teasing tone as he opens the door. He's expecting Aaron to pop his head out from the kitchen, or to rise from the sofa to give him a kiss, but.

But there's people.

There's.

Diane.

Doug.

Adam.

Bernice.

 _Vic_.

Fuck. He can vaguely hear cries of 'happy birthday!', can hear Aaron whispering 'surprise!' in his ear, but he can't _see_. Everything is blackblackblack, white around the edges, crackling, burning, and he can't breathe, sweating, red hot, and he needs to move. He pushes through the crowd, shies away from the touches, gasps, gasps, gasps, but the door shuts with a resounding slam behind him.

He opens his eyes, blinks several times and notices himself staring back in the bathroom mirror. He looks so panicked, wild and crazed, and he turns the tap on. He's terrifying even himself, so god knows what his family must think.

"Rob?" He hears a soft voice through the door, and it's so calming but also it's the reason he's fucking furious. "Let me in." He turns the tap up higher, pretends not to hear Aaron, and tries to breathe through the way his throat's closing up. "I know you can hear me!"

He decides to confront this face on, decides it's probably better that way, so he yanks the door open and sees Aaron not even a foot away from him. He looks small, folded in on himself; ashamed, maybe, and definitely sorry, but he pushes past Robert and kicks the door shut behind him. "What are you playing at?" The older man hisses as Aaron turns the tap off.

"Aren't you supposed to celebrate with family on your birthday?" Aaron retorts, turning round to lean against the sink. There's fire in his eyes, stubborn and unyielding, and Robert knows this isn't going to be an easy one.

He doesn't want it to be 'one' at all.

"And what gives _you_ the right to decide that?" He snaps, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hands. He digs them in, holds them there until he sees stars and constellations and planets, and then he drops his head. "They're my family, Aaron, and don't you think I should be the one to get back in contact with them? I haven't seen them for two years and there's a reason for that!"

"Why can't you just accept that they want to see you?" Aaron spits, pushing himself into Robert's space. "I know that's not you anymore, _you_ know that's not you as well! Let them know!"

Robert swears there's flames licking at his lungs, can smell the smoke, can feel the prickling heat burningburningburning and he can't _breathe_. Fire, filling his lungs, choking him, and he's gasping, clutching at nothing except- except Aaron's hands are there, small points of white heat on his hips, and he grasps Aaron's shoulders, knots his fingers into the thick material of Aaron's hoodie, opens his eyes to a swimming vision of Aaron's face.

"C'mon, baby," Aaron's whispering softly, and Robert closes his eyes again, tries to focus on his voice. "Breathe with me, come on." And he's counting, breathing deeply, and Robert's struggling to match him. "That's it, you're doing so good." His fingers are stroking Robert's face then gently, and the older man leans into it. He's not ashamed of drawing strength from Aaron, and when he opens his eyes, the dark haired man is gazing at him sadly.

"I'm sorry," Robert gasps, and Aaron just draws him into a tight hug. He feels a little lighter, now, with Aaron all around him, smothering him in the best way, but there are still pins stabbing at his eyelids so he holds on just a bit tighter.

Aaron's fingers twist in the short hairs at the back of Robert's head, and the older man feels grounded, but somehow like he can fly, too. " _I'm_ sorry, Robert. I shouldn't have pushed you. But they're here now, yeah? And I'll be right by your side the entire time."

He feels like he could do anything with Aaron right by his side.

  


**22nd april, 6.56pm**

"Robert!" Vic squeals, rushing to his side. "Happy birthday!" Then she wraps her arms around his waist, squeezes, holds on for dear life, even, and Robert should feel panicky. He _should_ , and he does for a second, but then it's replaced with an overwhelming surge of affection and love and he thinks that yeah, maybe this isn't going to be so bad after all.

"Thank you," He half laughs, and he hugs her back. He's missed her; she's his sister for god's sake, why was he anxious in the first place? Aaron was right. She's family. "I'm glad you're here." And he means it, too, because he's still trying at this whole honesty thing, and Victoria deserves to know. She's the only person who's consistently loved him.

She draws back from the hug, fists on her hips and Robert's fondly reminded of the juggernaut of a child she used to be, forceful and unstoppable. "And why didn't you tell me you lived next to Aaron?" She says, teasing accusation in her tone. He hopes it's teasing, anyway, but he takes in the playful sparkle in her eyes and breathes a sigh of relief. "I had to find out from the man himself!"

"I'm sorry," He sighs with a polite smile. He can vaguely feel everyone's eyes on them, on _him_ ; reading him and scrutinising him, and there's the heat of a blush threatening to pass his collar but he forces it away, focuses on his sister. His baby sister. No one can take that away from him. "I've just been trying to get myself sorted, since... You know." He feels awkward now, mentally kicking himself for fucking bringing it up, seriously, is he stupid- but Victoria just grins at him, places one manicured hand onto his arm and not so subtly elbows Andy in the ribs.

Andy.

Fuck, Robert forgot he was even here.

But there's no time like the present, he figures, and turns to face his brother with a forced smile. It's so fake it makes his cheeks hurt, and Andy's grin looks just as pretend, but Vic is radiating happiness beside them and he could never begrudge her anything. "Hi, Andy." He says through gritted teeth, and holds his hand out. There's a tense, weighty minute where Andy just stares at him; at his face then his hand and back to his face again, and Robert feels bile rising in his throat, heavy with dread and tinged with guilt. But then his brother grasps his hand, pulls him into a one armed hug and- oh. It's like that.

Robert can't help but hug him back.

"Happy birthday, bro," The dark-haired man whispers, and Robert swallows the lump in his throat as he mutters his thanks. He catches sight of Aaron over his shoulder, all loose curls and a soft grin, and his heart swells at the sight of him. He looks _proud_.

For the first time ever, Robert's proud of himself too.

And then there's Diane. She looks the same, really – maybe a little more grey and a few extra fine lines, but she's still looking at him with round, sparkling eyes, and the minute Andy releases him, he's pulled into her embrace too. "We've missed you, pet," She sighs, and Robert lets her familiar accent wash over him. It feels like home, really, when he lets himself think about it. It feels like he's safe. "I'm glad we could be with you on your birthday."

Beside her, Doug nods, agrees, shakes his hand and well. That's that. They'd never really gotten on well anyway.

His family is here. And that's all that matters.

  


**22nd april, 9.04pm**

All the love that's in Robert's shitty living room right now is _overwhelming_.

He can't remember ever feeling this accepted.

He's sitting on the sofa with Victoria, giggling with her like they did when they were kids; watching Andy and Aaron bond over engines or whatever scruffy men talk about (not that Robert couldn't join in if he wanted to. He could. He knows what he's talking about, despite the fond roll of Aaron's eyes whenever he tries to interject), Diane chatting politely with his work friends (and he's pretty sure she's listening to some terribly embarrassing drunk stories featuring himself), while Adam and Doug talk about gardening, of all things.

All in all, it's not the worst birthday he's ever had.

It's probably the best, really.

That's the thought that's consuming his mind as Aaron presses another can of beer into his hand - "I even got you the poncy stuff, Robert, don't say I never do anything for ya!" - with a loose grin and sparkly eyes that say more than he ever could with words.

His focus snaps away from the subtle press of their fingers, though, when the door opens loudly, smacking off the wall with an echoing slam - and Robert's praying that the plaster hasn't cracked so he can actually keep his deposit - and he hears a thick, Scottish accent. "I'm _here_!" Louise cries, holding up the two bottles of wine in her hands. "Now the party can really start!"

She's- She's drunk already, and Robert breathes deeply through his nose, trying to push down the rise of anger he can feel already. But he steels himself, forces a grin onto his face and rises to greet her. She gets to him first, though, and throws her arms round his neck in a half hug half headlock, and he steadies her with a hand on her waist. "Let's get you a drink, Lou," He mutters through gritted teeth, and gestures at Aaron to follow him.

When he's guided them both into the kitchen, he drops her heavily onto a dining chair and sits opposite her. He's silently thanking god that there's no one in here, because she's giggling about how she's glad they're best friends and- oh fuck, she's starting to cry.

Louise is possibly his least favourite kind of drunk.

He can just about hear her over the tap running, and then Aaron all but slams the glass in front of her. There's tension spilling out of every single one of the younger man's pores, setting the line of his shoulders tight and his eyes stony. And then he stands behind Robert, hand heavy on his shoulder, and the way that the pair of them scream _we'reateamwe'reateamwe'reateam_ helps to dissipate the forming headache a bit.

"Thank you," Louise slurs, looking up at Aaron. Her makeup's smudged, like she's been drunk for a while, and Aaron's fingers tighten slightly. "For inviting me. I know I haven't been very nice to you."

And isn't that an understatement.

"Well," Aaron says. His voice sounds tight, knitted together with frustration and barely concealed anger, but he's _trying_ as and that's more than Robert expects right now. "You're Robert's best friend. You should be here."

"Except not right now," Robert interrupts, watching Louise drink her water. She's absolutely wasted, really, and there's water slopping out of the side of the glass and down her chin as her elbows slide over the table.

Aaron's hand smooths over the tense line of his shoulders, fingers lightly grasping the back of his neck, squeezing once, and Robert suppresses the shiver it sends down his spine. "I'll take her home. I've only had one can," He says quietly. "You stay with your family."

Robert glances up, catches the younger man's burning gaze and smiles. "Thank you."

He can feel Louise staring at him, hard and unwavering, but he just ignores her.

  


**22nd april, 11.32pm**

"Thank you," Robert says quietly, breaking the silence in the room.

Aaron doesn't look up, instead carries on taking his shirt off and climbing into bed. He's been well, _off_ , since he got back from taking Louise home, and there's a pit of dread in Robert's stomach, bubbling and burning with all the words she could've said.

"I mean it," The older man continues, still standing by the edge of his bed. He still feels kind of tense, kind of weird that three sections of his life, three different worlds had collided.

Aaron meets family meets Louise.

Technically, they all _knew_ each other, but they were all there for Robert.

Like one big world.

"What for?" Aaron asks, but he's distracted, scrolling through his phone. He's still not looked up, and the dread in Robert's stomach starts boiling a few degrees hotter.

"For tonight. All of it," He sighs, peeling back the covers and climbing in bed. He makes sure they're not touching, that there's three inches of space between them, and Aaron flickers into a frown momentarily. But Robert knows he hasn't done anything wrong – he didn't exactly force whatever words out of Louise's mouth, did he? – and therefore he won't be doing the grovelling. He just stares at the ceiling instead. "For inviting my family; bringing Vic back into my life. I didn't realise how much I needed her."

Aaron hums, but he puts his phone down and turns onto his side, facing Robert with a soft, open expression. There's something about nights like this, when it's gone midnight and there's alcohol loosening his bones. He talks, tells stories about his past, about work and his friends and the Dingles, and he's willing to listen, too. "I knew you'd be fine," He murmurs, and underneath his stubble there's a small smile, lips quirking at the corners.

"Next time, though," Robert muses, tangling their fingers together between them. "At least consult me." He laughs slightly, shifts forward to press a sweet kiss onto Aaron's lips and then hovers over him, bracketing the younger man's body with his own. Aaron looks gorgeous like this, all dark eyes and soft smiles, and Robert can't resist kissing him again, harder and deeper than before.

But there's still the elephant in the room.

"What did Louise say to you?" He asks quietly, mouthing along the line of Aaron's collarbone. He bites, sucks; leaves bruises that he can't wait to press his fingers to tomorrow, and Aaron gasps under him, hips bucking up. "I asked you a question."

Aaron smirks then, eyes impossibly black and inky, and Robert leans down to kiss that look right off his face. "You keep distracting me," He laughs breathlessly.

"Well," Robert drawls, pinning Aaron's wrists above his head with both hands as he shifts so he's sitting on his thighs. "In that case, I'll stop until you tell me." Aaron writhes for a second, two, breathing sharp and harsh, but then he falls silent, serious.

"She told me that you couldn't love me," He mutters, gazing towards the side, away from Robert. "That you couldn't love anyone, and I'm not an exception." He's worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, and when he glances back at Robert, his eyes are wet.

Robert sighs, shifting until he's resting most of his weight on top of Aaron and he moves one of his hands, fingertips grazing his cheek. The other grasps Aaron's hand tightly. "That's not true," He whispers, fingers sweeping along the softness of Aaron's beard. "I'm not going to say it. Not yet. But you know."

Aaron's face softens but his eyes are still glistening. "Yeah," He murmurs. "I know."

And that's enough.

Robert leans down, lines their mouths up and brushes his tongue over Aaron's, just to feel the spark. That spark could start fires, he decides, slipping on thigh between the younger man's to grind down, and he threads his fingers through the dark curls and pulls sharply.

Aaron lets out a moan; a soft, keening sound, and Robert files that under _things he definitely needed to know about Aaron_ as he moves down the dark haired man's body, sucking at his throat. He leaves a bruise, blossoming purple and red, stark against the bare skin, and a thrill of **mine** travels down his spine as he looks at it.

"You gonna stay there and stare all day, or?" Aaron asks breathlessly, and Robert bites his nipple in retaliation, rolling the skin between his teeth. Aaron whimpers, spine curving, but Robert pulls away and blows over the wet patch.

"Or," He confirms, sucking and kissing his way down Aaron's body. He settles between the thick muscles of his thighs, licks a stripe down the crease of his hip and then further still, pulling his cheeks apart.

Aaron gasps, torn between pushing forward and pulling back, but Robert lays an arm over his stomach, keeping him still as he leans forward to tongue Aaron's hole. He slips the tip of his thumb inside Aaron, lets his tongue follow. The smell of him - earthy sex and something so familiar - makes him groan, and he reaches down to touch himself.

He fucks his tongue into Aaron, listens to the breathy moans it punches out of him and fists himself harder. He pulls back an inch, dragging his nose down the crease of Aaron's thigh and then licks, a bold movement with a flat tongue, over his hole and up up up, stopping just behind his balls. "Robert," Aaron groans, voice hoarse and wrecked. "If you don't fuck me now then I'll-"

He doesn't get to find out what Aaron will do, because he covers two fingers in lube and pushes them inside to the knuckle. Aaron cries out when he hooks his fingers and rubs against the bundle of nerves. "Good enough?" 

"Perfect," Aaron gasps, grinding back down on Robert's fingers. The older man hums, a smug smile on face, and he leans down to kiss Aaron - dirty, messy, _hot_.

He pulls his fingers out and Aaron whimpers, a soft sound that has Robert smoothing his thumb over the younger man's bottom lip as he covers his cock with lube. He pushes in without much thought, bottoms out in one swift move, and Aaron groans, deep and guttural, vibrating all over his body. He gasps Robert's name, a never-ending chant on his lips, and the blond leans down and tastes the his own name. 

He draws his hips back and slams back in, shoving Aaron up the bed with the force. He keeps snapping his hips, changes the angle and aims upwards, and Aaron gasps, "Yes, Robert, _yes_ ," which draws out into a wordless moan. His fingers scrabble on the older man's shoulders, nails raking down the sensitive skin, and it only makes Robert move faster.

"God- Fuck," Aaron hisses, tangling a hand in Robert's hair as his back arches. "I'm gonna-" He's cut off by a cry and then he freezes, coming without being touched.

Something stills in Robert's chest and then blinds him - love, euphoria, and he comes, hips stuttering as his fingers tighten anywhere he can touch Aaron.

And the love that's settled in his chest settles for good.

  


**24th april, 7.55pm**

They're both still riding on the high of the almost L-word, and Robert's never known a better definition of the honeymoon period. They're halfway through the Fast and Furious films, giggling at the bad effects and Aaron sighing wistfully over the cars (or maybe Vin Diesel. Robert hasn't quite worked it out yet), ignoring the film every so often to kiss and kiss and kiss - making out like teenagers.

Robert's phone rings, though, Taylor Swift echoing around the room loudly - and Aaron takes the piss every time, now is no different - and he sighs as he fishes it out of his pocket. "It's Vic," He mutters, and Aaron frowns like a petulant child but pauses the film anyway. "Hey, Vic," He answers, putting the phone to his ear.

The conversation is mostly made up of non-committal grunts from Robert's part, until he says goodbye and throws his phone onto the bed next to him. "What did she want?" Aaron asks casually, but there's a barely concealed excitement in his eyes. Robert knows he's feeling smug about reintroducing them.

"Sugden family dinner on Sunday," He rolls his eyes, stretching out more. "So I have to go play nice with my brother and smile while his she-devil of a wife insults me every other minute."

Aaron cackles slightly, running his fingers through Robert's hair. "I'm not around," He reminds the older man. "I'm seeing my mum. So you'll have to face it on your own."

"Great," Robert huffs, but it's all for show and he grins loosely. "Thanks for abandoning me." He turns and wraps an arm around Aaron's waist anyway, curling against him tightly.

"Have you..." Aaron trails off, looking nervous. "Have you told them about me? About us?" He seems uncertain, like he shouldn't be asking, but Robert squeezes his fingers around the younger man's hip to make him more comfortable.

Robert considers his words for a minute. "They don't know about you. They don't even know about me," He sighs. "I'm twenty nine and I don't even know how to come out."

But it's the first time he's ever wanted to.

  


**26th april, 2.01pm**

There's something about Emmerdale that makes his palms sweat.

He looks around nervously, waiting for some big, bad shadow to jump out and attack him. His hands are so slippy he almost drops the bottle of wine he brought for Victoria.

There's nothing good for him here.

Still, he rings the bell for the cottage and shifts his weight between each foot, counting the _secondsminuteshours_ it takes for the door to open. And when it does, he's immediately pulled into a suffocating hug. "I'm so glad you could make it!" Vic cries, and she's so radiant, so happy, that it's infectious. Robert grins back at her. "No Aaron today? Adam won't be very happy."

"He's going shopping with his mum," He replies, feeling the absence like a phantom limb. It's not that he's attached or anything... Well. Maybe he is, but they're in a good place and he's so fucking happy. Who could blame him, really?

"Come on," She says, ushering him in. He feels out of place here, like his limbs are too long and his voice is too loud. He doesn't fit into this picture perfect life. "Diane and Doug are already here, and Andy's on his way." She hesitates at the last phrase, stumbles over the syllables but he's not going to ruin this for her. He's already done enough of that.

"That's great," He murmurs clumsily, taking his coat off and hanging it up. "What's for dinner?" She brightens up at the mention of dinner, talking a mile a minute about the recipe she'd found in the stuff Sarah had left for her, how it's a home comfort.

It all just sounds very uncomfortable to Robert.

Before he knows it, he's being swept into a hug by Diane, and she drops a kiss onto his cheek. It just all feels so fake, the memories of everyone taking Andy's side, of being the worst son, a horrible person- but he's not going to ruin today.

He'd promised himself that before he came. He promised Aaron, too, and that's worth so much more than any of this.

He counts the minutes, seconds, until Katie and Andy arrive, then runs through pleasantries and seating arrangements without even thinking about it. "So, Robert," Katie sneers. "How's living the high life going for you? Oh _wait_ , I forgot, you went and fucked that one up too."

She looks like butter wouldn't melt, really, with her doe eyes and pouty lips. She's angelic and she's beautiful and yeah, Robert loved her once. He did. But she's got a vindictive streak to rival his, bitter and black, and it sits front and centre whenever they're face to face.

Robert hates it.

"Not today, alright?" He sighs, sitting back in his chair. Victoria and Diane are in the kitchen, and he's so glad they're not here to see this. Adam and Andy are still in the room though, seated around the table and shifting uncomfortably, but Robert isn't going to be the one to start a fight.

"What's up? Lost your touch?" She's smirking; looks smug in the kind of way Robert did ten years ago too, but now he just feels tired, exhausted of the same games. He rolls his eyes, tries to let Katie know that she's not getting to him at all.

"Anyone would think you're still in love with me, Katie," He says, sounding bored. "I don't want to argue with you. I'm here for my sister, okay? So just don't bother."

For the first time in her life, Katie is lost for words.

  


**26th april, 6.25pm**

Robert feels his shoulders sag the minute he gets into his flat. He's both relieved and angry; bearing the brunt of Katie's snide remarks had almost killed him. But he'd sat there and took it, not retaliating even once, and it'd been worth it just for the way Diane and Vic had smiled proudly at him before he left – even Andy had looked somewhat pleased.

Now though, he falls onto the sofa, toeing his shoes off as he curls up onto his side. He's _exhausted_ , mind-numbingly so, and he folds his legs up to his chest as he closes his eyes.

"Saw your car out front," Aaron announces as he walks in, brushing his fingers through Robert's hair as he moves through to the kitchen. "You weren't as long as I thought you'd be. How'd it go? You alright?" There's the sound of the kettle boiling, of mugs and spoons clattering around, of jars being placed into cupboards. Robert tries to find the energy to speak, tries to force his tongue to work, but he just sighs. Rolling onto his back, he opens his eyes, staring at the white ceiling as he thinks of the right words.

"It was awful," He groans, feeling Aaron lift his legs as he sits down. "Katie wouldn't leave me alone." His legs are over the younger man's lap now, and the rich smell of coffee is making his mouth water.

And it hits him how domestic it is. How easy it'd be to have this for the rest of his life. How he doesn't want it any other way.

"Does she ever?" Aaron snorts, and Robert sits up to see him blowing over his coffee. It's so _normal_ it makes his chest constrict, makes breathing a little bit harder. "Did you start any fights?"

He reaches over for his own coffee and settles his socked feet under Aaron's knees to keep them warm as he sips from his mug. "I promised you I wouldn't, didn't I?" He counters teasingly. "I was very good."

"And I'm proud of ya," Aaron murmurs, fingers squeezing around Robert's ankle.

Robert bites back the _I love you_ sitting on the tip of his tongue.

  


**1st may, 6.33pm**

"You want pizza?" Robert asks as he shuffles through Aaron's kitchen drawers. He's trying to find a menu, seeing as their favourite pizza place is the only fucking one that doesn't seem to be online these days, and he finds it with a triumphant huff.

"Pepperoni, please," Aaron calls back as the older man walks back into the living room, and he pulls his phone out to dial the number but there's a knock at the door. It startles both of them - more so Aaron, who frowns as he stumbles to the front door. This was supposed to be their date night, one of their only nights alone since Vic and Adam had decided to force bi-weekly dinners on them, as well as respective best friend nights each (and Aaron still cackles when Robert maintains that Victoria is _not_ his best friend), and they'd wanted to spend it at home with a takeaway and several seasons of Black Mirror.

Robert cranes his neck, peers over his own shoulder when he hears a distinctively female sob, but he doesn't recognise the teenager in the doorway. He recognises the set of Aaron's shoulders though, the softness of his touches and the delicacy of his voice as he ushers the young girl inside - the young girl who stops and stares the minute she sees Robert. She frowns, as if weighing up the possibility of him stealing Aaron's attention, but. But Robert takes in the roundness of her cheeks, the light blue of her eyes and the way her hands are shoved into her pockets and thinks _oh god, yeah, Aaron's sister_.

She's the double of him.

"Liv," Aaron says softly, one hand on Liv's shoulder, and it shocks them both out of their trance. "This is Robert. He's a mate. Robert, this is my sister, Liv."

"Pizza?" Robert asks awkwardly, clumsily, waving the menu in her direction. He doesn't quite know what to do, how to react - doesn't know how to deal with teenagers full stop. He hadn't been around when his own sister was fourteen.

She raises one eyebrow and wipes her tears roughly with her sleeves. "Where'd you find this one, Aaron?" The snarky tone to her voice is increasing Robert's fondness _already_ , and he feels ridiculous. "He's got the social skills of a penguin."

Aaron covers up a snort of laughter with a cough and his hand, but Robert's countering her with an eyebrow rise of his own. "Did you not know that penguins are the most sociable birds?" He huffs. "Or do they not teach you anything at school besides how to steal cars and rob pensioners?"

Liv clicks her tongue against her teeth, kicks her shoes off and flops herself onto the couch next to him. "Great! Old _and_ full of shit. Absolutely perfect for you, Aaron." And then she's grinning at him, snatching the menu out of his hand, and even Aaron warning Liv about her language isn't enough to hide the younger man's amusement.

Yeah, Robert thinks. He and Liv are going to get on just fine.

  


**1st may, 10.04pm**

"Listen," Aaron murmurs, cornering Robert in the kitchen. Liv's in the living room still, snickering at an episode of Family Guy that's older than her - but she's smiling now, and Aaron's smiling too, and that's... well, that's more than Robert could ever ask for, to be honest. "She's going to stay here tonight. And you... you probably shouldn't be here. Is that okay?"

And it _shouldn't_ matter in the grand scheme of things, but they're getting serious, aren't they? Robert's not exactly window shopping for engagement rings or anything, but thoughts have been drifting through his mind late at night: _maybe this could be forever_ and _I think you're it for me_.

Isn't meeting the family supposed to be a part of that? He's done that, sure - he's met Liv, laughed with her and shared a pizza and she's nice (she's more than nice. She's Aaron except smaller; the Aaron he imagines of five or six years ago with a cheeky smile and a fucking baseball cap on and. And he's startlingly fond of her. Scarily so, really). He's not known Liv for long but he's met at least one part of the family and he's been introduced...

As a mate.

 _A mate_.

It only just hits him, the words finally piercing his eardrums and it- it sends him reeling, and he's pretty sure he recoils physically. A mate _Seriously_? They hadn't spoken about them - _us_ , Robert's mind supplies, and he hates the way his heart flutters when he thinks of the two of them as one - or their relationship or labels or anything like that but they're adults, aren't they? They shouldn't have to. There shouldn't have to be any stupid teenage rituals like asking each other out or going steady (even the thought makes Robert balk a bit). And they were doing so good. They were safe, right? Right? Everything just seems so shaky now, like the foundations are cracking into one giant question mark.

But Aaron's looking at him like he's begging or even _praying_ , and Robert wants to reassure him but he can't even reassure himself- all he can do is force a smile, strained and tugging painfully at the corners. "Sure," He agrees, though his voice is hitching and wavering, and when he turns to walk out of the kitchen he has to force himself to put one foot in front of the other. It's a struggle. "It was nice meeting you, Liv."

The younger girl lifts her head and smiles at him, a half smile that's so inherently _Aaron_ that he has to look away. "Try not to cark it in your sleep, old man," She teases, and Robert's just. Just sad. That he'll probably never see her again, that he'll never get to know her properly.

He's already resigned himself to the truth.

He drags himself out of the door, across the four steps it takes to get to his own flat; automatic, instinctual, _numb_.

The only thing he can hear is the unstable beat of his own heart and the echo of the word mate.

  


**2nd may, 4.45pm**

_liv gone home. heating up pizza x_

That's all it says, the text. Robert stares at it until it blurs. When he closes his eyes, the black pixels are swimming behind his lids. But he has to do this. He has to _know_ , and that's why he doesn't think about it until he's letting himself into Aaron's flat.

"Hey," Aaron says brightly when Robert steps into the living room. The way his face lights up; his eyes sparkling and his grin loose and easy, well... It contradicts everything Robert's thinking. Maybe he's wrong, maybe he's- but no. He's determined to sort this out. "Leftovers. Come sit down." Aaron nudges the plate on the coffee table with his knee and leans back, body relaxed, and he looks so beautiful. Robert's never been so scared to lose anything before.

And Robert sits. His body is tense, braced for impact, and suddenly it feels like the air's too thick - he can't breathe. " _Mates_?" He blurts, and there's no going back now. This is it. "You said I was your mate." He sounds accusatory - feels it, too. Like it's dripping off his words and his bones and his tongue.

"Well, we _are_ , aren't we? We are mates." Aaron sounds confused, but his eyebrows are knitted into a frown and he's silently pleading for Robert to just drop it.

But Robert Sugden is nothing if not stubborn.

He curls his fingers over his knees and squeezes tight, and the flash of pain is just enough for him to ignore the sick, terrified feeling burning into his stomach. " _Mates_ don't spend every single minute of the day together, Aaron," He breathes hard through the rage settling under his skin and holds a hand palm up when Aaron tries to interrupt. "I'm not finished! _Mates_ don't cook each other nice dinners! Mates don't go on dates! _Mates_ don't share a bed every night and they certainly don't _fuck_!"

"Maybe we crossed too many boundaries, then," Aaron says, his voice carefully even. The edges of his body are tight and Robert couldn't read him if he tried.

"Boundaries!?" The older man cries, rising to his feet. He wants to pace but he can't tear his gaze from Aaron. "I thought this was _real_! I thought we were getting serious!"

Aaron stands up too, and the way he holds himself makes him almost match Robert's height. His chin is tipped up like a challenge, arms crossed over his chest, and oh. Oh. This is how they're playing it, then. "You thought wrong, Robert!" He snaps.

And that was meant to hurt. He had succeeded, too. "What are you on about? You asked me to-" He stops. Takes a deep breath. Rakes his fingers through his hair. "I love you, Aaron." Like the calm before the storm.

"Don't," Aaron says. Short. One word and Robert's heart shatters. Aaron's eyes are steel.

" _Don't what_?" He shouts as he takes a step forward. Aaron immediately takes a step back. "You asked me to say it! You told me to tell you! I _love_ you, and I'm just falling deeper and deeper while you-"

Aaron shouts back. "Have you ever thought that maybe I don't love you!?" He yells, voice pitched and strained. It hits Robert square in the chest like a tonne of bricks.

"While you've always had one foot out the door," Robert laughs humourlessly, quietly. He feels _exhausted_ now all the fight has left his body, and he hangs his head. "I'll see you around, Aaron."

As he turns to leave, he feels Aaron grab at his arm but he yanks it out of the younger man's grip. "Robert!" He shouts, sounding panicked and terrified and everything that's blackening Robert's insides. "You- You don't have to go!"

He stops in his tracks, hears Aaron's relieved exhale, but. "If I stay," He admits tearfully. He hates himself for crying; the waver in his voice and the wetness on his cheeks. "If I stay, I'm scared of what you'll do to me. I'm scared of what I'll let you do to me." And with that, he leaves. He steps out of the flat, tilts his head and tries to figure out exactly who he is without Aaron.

It's time to stand on his own two feet.

  


**2nd may, 6.02pm**

He ends up at Louise's front door, doesn't remember getting here, doesn't remember walking, doesn't remember _breathing_. Everything hurts, like the way it would when you crack a rib, but he forces his eyes open and his spine straight. He knocks on the door, once, twice, hard enough that his knuckles ache. The pain is nothing compared to the feeling in his chest.

"Robert?" She asks as she swings the door open. Her voice does nothing but split the crack further, and he sways, falls forward. She catches him. She always catches him. "What's happened?" She sounds so concerned. Robert doesn't deserve it.

"Turns out," He gasps out through a laugh. It sounds bitter and awful, even to his own ears. "Turns out we're nothing but _mates_ , me and Aaron. Turns out I meant _nothing_." He spits the last words as Louise lowers him onto her sofa. He's pathetic and he doesn't even care.

She sits on the edge of her coffee table, stares at him with wide, sympathetic eyes. "I'm sure that's not true," She murmurs. She doesn't reach out to touch him. He's glad. 

"He _said_ it, Lou. He said that- that he didn't feel anything for me, that it was all in my head." He stops, holds a hand over his mouth. He feels sick, like the world has fallen off its axis, like the stars aren't shining, like the moon has stopped pulling the tide, like the love of his life doesn't love him- he lets out a dry sob, feels his entirely body shaking.

She pities him, it falls out of her pores, sits in her eyes, slips out of her mouth. He _hates_ it. "Maybe it just wasn't meant to be," She says softly. The words are careful, like if she says the wrong thing he'll bite her head off. He doesn't even have the energy, so he just smiles numbly. "Drink. You need drink." She pushes herself off the table, heads into the kitchen.

He can hear her clattering about, the sound of glasses hitting the counter, thinks of Aaron cooking them dinner. Aaron setting the table, sitting cross-legged on the floor, thinks of kissing him, thinks of the bedroom and the love he felt and- 

His heart shatters even more. 

"I have wine but I thought you'd need something stronger," She's rambling, clearly out of place and worried. Robert watches her with steady eyes as she places a short glass of whisky in front of him and then sits down. He doesn't say a word as she pulls her legs under herself, as she takes a sip of her drink and then stares at him.

She thrusts his glass into his face. "Come on! You'll feel better!"

He drinks glass after glass, watches Louise pour the vodka effortlessly, like it's her second nature. His eyelids become increasingly heavy, hands clumsy, but that doesn't stop her. She keeps pouring.

She's telling a story that Robert would find just as boring if he was sober and not heartbroken, but he tries to laugh in all places regardless. It's what friends do. But she must sense that he's not really there, because she sighs, covers his hand with hers. "I don't get why you're so upset," She pouts, words slurring together. "You could have anyone you want!"

It makes him stop, think, sit up straighter. She's right. "You're right," He says carefully, placing his drink on the table. He rubs his palms down his thighs, calms his racing pulse. His mouth feels numb. He doesn't even feel like himself, feels like he's watching this through someone else's eyes. "I could." He leans forward, eyes closed. Doesn't want to look at her face, doesn't want to recognise who she is.

He kisses her.

He can have anyone he wants.

Louise's mouth opens easily underneath his; waiting, wanting, and he takes advantage, presses closer, feels her slim shoulders under his rough palms. It feels _wrong_ because her lips are glossed and her hands are tiny, because she tastes like vodka and something sweet. It's not _right_ because it's not bitten lips and calluses pressing bruises, because it's not the faint tang of cigarette smoke and beer.

It's not Aaron.

He wrenches himself back at the same time Louise pushes him away, and he shudders out a gasp. Swallows the lump in his throat, forces away the bile.

Huh. The things you'll do when you've got nothing left to lose.

He stumbles off the sofa, holds the back of his hand over his mouth. Looks at anything but her, at the cushions, at the carpet, at the wallpaper. Because she's not Aaron.

"I need to go," He chokes out, already halfway down the hallway. "This is too much." 

Louise doesn't say a word, so he does the only thing he knows how. He runs away.

  


**2nd may, 10.10pm**

Victoria opens the door, eyes wide and tired. She looks like an angel, Robert thinks. She's an angel and he's the devil; fallen, excommunicated, unworthy. He falls into her arms nonetheless.

She's carding her fingers through his hair, murmuring niceties as she half drags him through the door, but she doesn't know what's going on. She can't. He hopes she never has to feel like this.

"Robert?" She says quietly, concerned. _Unworthy_. "What are you doing here?" She offers him a glass of water, sits on the sofa next to him. He doesn't remember sitting down. Doesn't know how this happened.

"My life's a mess," He smiles, heart as numb as his words. "My life's a mess and I don't know what to do."

Victoria blinks once, twice, and opens her mouth to say something but changes her mind. "Have you been drinking?" She asks instead of the aborted words. "How did you get here? You didn't drive, did you?" 

"No," He says, because he didn't. He didn't drive, but he doesn't remember how he got here. It's all black, when he thinks about it, black like the cracks that must be showing on his face. He reaches a hand up, touches his cheek, but it all feels as smooth as it normally does. "Me and Aaron were a thing."

Vic pulls his fingers away from his face, curls them with her own and rests them in her lap. Her dressing gown is soft, fluffy. Robert wants to bury his face in it and sob, just like he used to with Sarah. "I know that. Were?"

He doesn't focus on the past tense, doesn't want to think about that. "How did you know?" He asks quietly. He's not sure that he wants to know the answer.

She smiles sadly at him, pushes her fingers through his hair. "It's my job to know these things," She says, sending a glance to the light that's just come on at the top of the stairs. Robert doesn't want to see Adam, doesn't want to think about him; it's all too close to- to- he can't even say the name. Thankfully the light flips off again, and Vic looks at him once more. "The way you acted together, Robert. I just knew. I was waiting for you to tell me."

Robert lets out a strangled noise, curls his fingers into his palm and digs his nails in. It doesn't bleed but he _wants_ it to. He wants to feel it. "If it was up to him," He says lowly. His voice sounds dangerous, even to his own ears. "Nobody would've found out."

"What happened?" Victoria is quiet, calm, constant. He missed her so much, doesn't know how he ever lived without her. He doesn't think he'll survive this without her.

"When I told him I loved him," He smiles cruelly, the corners of his mouth twisting upwards. "He told me he felt nothing for me." He swallows the lump in his throat, ignores the urge to throw up.

Vic hesitates, clearly surprised. "Robert-" She starts.

Robert cuts her off. "The best part of it is," He grins, feeling his body shudder as he remembers it all. "Is that I could go have anyone I wanted right now. I mean, I've already tested that theory with Lou."

The line of Victoria's mouth goes hard at the same time her eyes do, and she stares him down. "What have you done?" She asks, words carefully even.

It shocks a laugh out of him, humourless and empty, but he can't even look at her. He's scared of what she might see. He averts his eyes, stares at the floor. Feels ashamed. "Nothing, because I can't bring myself to touch anyone that isn't him."

  


**5th may, 11.30am**

"Can you go shop and get milk?" Victoria asks carefully, as careful as she was three days ago. She's trying and he knows that, is grateful, even, but. He just doesn't want to move. She looks firm today, though, and he could probably do with some air, so he sighs, concedes with a nod.

Everything blurs as she offers him his jacket, a handful of coins, and then her keys. His mind slips back to- but then he snaps himself out of it, his sister's concerned eyes coming back into focus. He shrugs her questions off with a smile and escapes the second his head stops spinning, tilts his head up to the sky. 

Every step he takes makes his body ache, but he forces himself on, breathes through burning lungs and looks through stinging eyes. The village has barely changed, and he walks to the shop on autopilot. Everyone is staring at him.

Pitying him.

He knows he looks like death, but he doesn't need the reminders. The scars are already sitting on his heart. He pushes his way into the shop, keeps his head down, fingers skimming across the metal shelves as he refuses to look at anything, except. Except he stops, bumps full body into a strong frame. He knows who it is before he lifts his head.

Andy. His dear brother.

Andy pauses, hand on Robert's shoulder to steady him, and he takes in the younger man's appearance with concern bleeding onto his features. "Are you okay, Rob?" He asks, clearly worried.

Robert scoffs, takes a step back so he's standing far enough that he can't feel his brother's heat. "Fucking peachy," He spits, at about the same time he clocks Katie approaching.

She's got a smirk on her face, sharp and cutting. He loved that about her once, the way she could slice you to shreds. Now it just makes him shrink away. "Running back with your tail between your legs?" She says, sweet and sickly, like butter wouldn't melt. "Didn't think that was really your style."

He shudders out a breath, averts his gaze. "Please just stay out of my way." He's bordering on begging and he knows it, but he doesn't care. He just wants it to stop. 

Katie looks shocked, eyes widening at the lack of comeback, and Andy's still standing there like the useless lump he is, concerned about a brother he hardly cares about.

Robert spins on his heel and leaves, milk be damned.

  


**17th may, 4.57pm**

He trails after Victoria and Adam, head hung low. The pub is exactly the same as it always was - exactly the same as every other country pub - and it feels suffocating, too close. Still, though, he's trying, and if that means dinner in public with his sister and her husband, anything to make Victoria smile instead of looking at him with fear in her eyes, he'll do it.

"Why don't you get us drinks?" She says softly, like she keeps on doing these days. She gestures to the bar where Diane is standing, looking at him curiously. Chas Dingle is stood next to her, eyes wide and mouth small. Great, they both know then.

He nods, braces himself at the bar with both hands on the dark wood, and reels off the order to avoid any questions. It doesn't work though, because the minute Chas has her hand on the beer pump, she's grimacing at him. "I'm sorry for what Aaron's done," She says, tone hushed. She glances back down at the glass in her hand, and then back up again, staring straight into his soul. "But I really think you should hear him out. He's absolutely devastated, love." 

He stills, stops counting the money in his palm, and feels his throat constrict. "Chas!" Diane scolds. Fuck, his saviour. She sends him an apologetic smile as she places Vic's glass of wine on the bar. "Leave the poor boy alone."

He mutters his thanks, dumps a note in her hand and then scarpers, balancing all three drinks in his hands. "You alright, Rob?" Adam asks when he sets the drinks on the table. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I, uh," He starts. Vic is looking at him curiously. "Chas started talking about Aaron." He can feel bile burning his throat, tears pricking his eyes.

Adam instantly pales, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else, but before Robert can apologise, Victoria is tutting. "She has no right!" She cries, eyes flashing dangerously as she glances over to Chas. "I'm gonna have a word." 

She starts to stand but Adam stops her with a hand on her arm, looking uneasy. "Babe," He says, voice calm but still worried. "I don't think it's your place. Why don't you just leave it, yeah?" He looks like he's desperate to flee, like he shouldn't be picking sides, but really, Robert doesn't expect him to.

Robert unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth and swallows a few times. "This was a nice idea and all," He says, monotone. He doesn't want to break down. "But I think I'm just gonna go home." He pushes his untouched pint towards Adam and stands up, trying not to look at either of them. 

"We could come with you," Victoria adds quickly, looking like she's half a second away from grabbing all her things and joining him.

"Uh, Vic," He murmurs, placing a soft hand on her shoulder. "I just wanna be on my own for a bit, alright?" 

She blinks once, twice, but then deflates. "Sure. But call me if you need anything. I mean it - _anything_." He nods and as good as runs out of the pub, feet pounding against the floor with every fast step he takes towards Keepers. He can still feel it, the looks everyone's giving him; all the pity and sorrow. It's mostly in his head and he knows that but it still makes him feel sick, the thought of it.

Emmerdale is too small, really. It's bad for him, this place, because it's suffocating and drowning and crushing him. He needs to get out.

He heads up to Vic's box room that's officially his (for now, at least), and toes off his shoes, making himself comfortable on the bed. He pulls out his too old laptop and settles. He's going to be here for a while. The words on the screen all blur together, pixels turning into shapeless blobs, but it keeps his mind off- off _him_ , so he keeps going. 

"Robert!" Victoria's voice calls, and when he looks up, his eyes are aching and it's dark outside. Hours have passed - huh. He didn't realise it was that late. "We're home!" He hears her footsteps on the stairs, light and airy and everything he's missed, and he manages to shoot her a half genuine smile.

She throws herself onto the bed heavily, peering over his shoulder curiously. She's always been nosy - that hasn't changed - so he angles the laptop towards her. "I'm looking for flats," He says, injecting as much cheeriness as he can into his voice. 

She looks at him with wide eyes, sadness shining, like she doesn't want him to leave, like he shouldn't, like he belongs in Emmerdale. It's all lies anyway. "What about _your_ flat?" She asks, meaning something entirely different.

He shifts uncomfortably, moves the laptop off to the side. "Vic," He starts softly, staring at her hand as she clutches his. "I can't- I can't go back there. Not after... It's too much." He blinks away the tears in his eyes, tries to shut his mind off completely.

"It's your _home_!" She stresses, fingers pressing harshly into the soft skin on the back of his hand. 

"It was never my home," He whispers, refusing to look her in the eyes. It all feels like too much, too soon. He thinks that it always will. " _He_ made it home, but I can't do it anymore. It's over." He closes his eyes, rests his head against the wall with a dull thud, and tries to subtly inch away from her. 

She sniffs but he still doesn't look at her. He can feel the cracks again, only papered over before. Now they're wide open, obvious and glaring. He touches the corner of his mouth self-consciously. "You still need to go get your stuff though," She reasons, voice uncharacteristically quiet. 

"No," He says, firmly, forcefully. Victoria shrinks back even further, eyes growing impossibly wider. "I _can't_ , Vic. I can't go back, please don't make me." He's bordering on begging, his lungs hurt from the breaths he's trying to rake in, and his chest feels tight. Like he's being crushed, like his heart is breaking like-

He hears his sister's voice, feels his brother-in-law press a glass of water into his hands. He hears it and he feels it, but it's still like he's watching it through someone else's eyes.

"Robert, Robert," Vic says calmly, fingers stroking down the side of his face. He's on his knees now, on the floor, but he doesn't remember how he got here. He doesn't remember anything. "It's alright, you just had a panic attack." She's so loving, his sister. She's so much like Sarah. He copies her breathing like she's telling him to, and he only realises he's crying when she dries his cheeks. 

"I can't do it, Vic," He cries, head dropping forward.

She wraps her arms around him, rocks him back and forth like a child, but for once he doesn't mind. "You don't have to, Rob," She murmurs sweetly, kissing the top of his head. "You don't have to."

  


**8th august, 6.00pm**

Robert Sugden is twenty-nine and is slowly rebuilding his life, piece by piece. The ache is still there, constant and not in the slightest reassuring, but it's easier to breathe through it now. He's slowly gluing the pieces of his heart back together. And even if he still can't bring himself to think of _him_ , well.

He can just ignore that.

Because he's even managing to laugh more, at Victoria's dry humour, at shitty reruns of sitcoms. He's getting there, and that counts for more than the ever present squeezing in his chest. Louise still hasn't been around and he doesn't intend to go back after fucking that one up well and truly, so.

He takes it upon himself to accept the invitation for after-work drinks with a smile and a nod.

And that's why he finds himself in the Heart and Crown, a pint in his hand and Joanna from accounts fluttering her eyelashes at him. He's not going to _do_ anything. It's just nice to know that he could, if he was so inclined. 

Doesn't mean he's not avoiding staring at the table in the corner, avoiding the ghosts of two men sitting there - one falling, falling, falling while the other one's mind slides to scenes of adultery. No, he just looks away.

And then.

Everything's normal one minute - he's laughing at Harry from sales anecdotes, blushing at Joanna's fingers on his arm, and then. The air goes cold, his skin is freezing, and the hair at the back of his neck stands up.

He knows exactly who it is.

He glances up once, just to confirm his suspicions, but his heart jumps into his throat. The world stops spinning. And he runs. He pushes through his workmates with a mumbled apology, lets his body carry him through the smoking area and out the back gate, but he doesn't stop there. He runs until his feet ache, until he's gasping burning breaths, until his head is pounding. He runs and he runs and he runs.

His back slams against a rough brick wall when he's far enough away and he can feel his skin graze under his shirt, but he doesn't notice the pain. He doesn't notice anything over the sound of his breathing, just stands, doubled over and heaving - until he sees familiar trainers skid to a stop in front of him.

_nononononononononononono_

"Robert!" Aaron hisses, holding his side like he's got a stitch, like he's been chasing Robert for the entire six blocks. "Will you just _stop_!?"

Robert retches again, tries to run as far away as he possibly can, but he's too slow, always too slow, and Aaron's fingers catch around his wrist and pull him back. "Get off me!" He spits, trying to yank his arm away, but the movement just pulls Aaron closer to him.

The younger man stills, reaches up with a shaking hand as if he's going to touch Robert's face but then decides otherwise and lets it hover. "God," He breathes, eyes impossibly wide and impossibly close. Robert tries to look anywhere else, to step back from the warmth he can feel, but he's cornered. He's trapped. "You look like shit."

"Oh, that's real fucking nice of you," He snaps, laughing humourlessly. He trains his gaze on the floor. "This is what happens when you have your heart broken." He gives up trying to fight Aaron's grip and instead tries to ignore the points of heat on his pulse. 

"Yeah, tell me about it," Aaron deadpans. "I've been looking _everywhere_ for you." And when Robert dares to look up, he sees his own reflection - a broken man; dark smudges under the eyes and sallow cheeks. 

Robert hisses through his teeth, feels his bloodied shirt sticking to his back. "That only works if you're the one that has their heartbroken." His voice is clipped, hurt. He hopes Aaron feels it.

But the younger man just shoves him against the wall harshly, makes him stay there. He falters a little at Robert's face when his cut hits the wall, but he doesn't let go. He never lets go. "Don't you think," He says, voice heavy and low and breaking all at once. "That I hurt _myself_? You- you know how I feel about you."

Robert stares for a minute, disbelief rattling through his bones. And then he pushes Aaron away, pushes himself off the wall. "You are joking," He deadpans, momentarily enjoying the way Aaron's face falls. "I really don't have time for this."

His walls are going up; bulletproof, impenetrable, but Aaron's stay exactly where they are - in dust around his feet. "Will you just listen!?" The younger man explodes, curling his fists into Robert's blazer and pushing him back into place. "Just let me explain. That's all I want, Robert." He's begging, exhausted. _Fuck_. 

Robert nods, eyes closed. He's exhausted too, and the way Aaron says his name dredges something bittersweet up his throat. "Fine. Not here, though." 

Aaron smiles sardonically. "We could just go home," He says, word jerky - _bitter_. Robert must pull a face, because Aaron gestures to the building behind them. _Oh_. The empty flat that Robert still pays rent for, only the spirit of the man he was - before - still clinging to the wall. "But it's not your home anymore, is it?"

"No," Robert says briskly, turning his head so Aaron can't see the ever-present cracks in his facade. He can still feel the younger man's gaze burning into his cheek, though. "I moved out." He hates that the first place his subconscious took him was here. _Hates_ it. 

"I know," Aaron's mouth is drawn tight, his eyes hard yet impossibly wide. He's a walking contradiction and it hits Robert how much he loves him. "Come on then." 

He follows Aaron wordlessly, eyes trained to the ground, but feels breath leave his body.

The stairwell-

_He settles his gaze on a dark-haired man and… Fuck. He can’t breathe suddenly, like all the air has been punched out of his lungs, and it takes him a good ten seconds to recover. “Hey,” He calls, fixing his trademark confident smile. “Don’t suppose you could give us a hand?”_

The man spins round, eyes flitting before they settle on Robert. “Sorry mate,” He says. His voice is low and gruff and music to Robert’s ears, and he has to will his pulse to slow the fuck down. “Got somewhere to be. You look like you can handle it, though.”

_“A shame,” Robert quips. He might let his eyes rake over the man’s body, and judging by the perfect pink colour that rises to his cheeks, he might’ve eye-fucked him a bit too much. “You look like you know your way around some heavy lifting.”_

_The man laughs, short and sweet but real, and Robert’s heart actually squeezes itself tight, millions of butterflies unfurling from the dark corners of his stomach. “I’ll see you around.”_

The hallway- 

_The air feels electric and thick, pressing into Robert's body until he can feel it and smell it and taste it. It tastes like anticipation, like things that are yet to come, and he loves it. He watches Aaron; drinks in the way his eyes are half lidded, the way he's gazing up through his eyelashes, the way he's biting his lip, the way a flush is rising from his neck, the way his hair is curling slightly. He memorises the sight, stores it away for a rainy day, and just breathes. But the way Aaron's eyes are shining pushes the corner of his mouth up into a half smile, and god. Aaron's boyfriend must be a fucking idiot._

_"Thank you," The younger man whispers, and his words sound as thick as the air he's pushing them into. "I had a great night, honestly. Just... Thank you." Then he's leaning up on his tiptoes; stretching, body lean and long and sharp, and Robert risks settling a hand onto his waist. It shocks Aaron for moment, but then he just grins: some great, dazzling, blinding smile that Robert has to close his eyes against, and before he knows it, there are lips on his cheek. They settle, for one moment, two, three, and he's holding his breath, fingers tightening around the curve of Aaron's hip._

Aaron's flat-

_Aaron shifts again, draws himself up until he's sitting on his knees, and there's barely an inch between them. Robert can feel warm puffs of breath against his face, but he doesn't move, doesn't turn away, can't, so he just watches Aaron lean in and press their lips together gently. It's barely a kiss; just a brush of skin on skin, but suddenly the world stops spinning and everything goes silent. It's sparks and fireworks and every sense all at once. It's perfect._

_"You don't..." Robert sighs, shifting away. He turns his head to the left slightly, watches Aaron from underneath his lashes, and studies the defeated look on his face. "You don't need to thank me like that. That's not why I'm here."_

_"I know that," Aaron snaps. He sounds affronted, but then his tone turns slightly desperate. "Did I read the signals wrong?"_

_Robert wipes his hands on his jeans, notices they're slightly clammy, and tries to even out his breathing. "No," He admits finally, dropping his gaze. "You didn't read the signals wrong. But you're not in a good place, Aaron. You've barely been single five minutes and I'm not going to take advantage of that."_

_"But I want this," He pleads, catching Robert's wrist between his fingers. He squeezes slightly, and the pressure makes the older man still. "Don't you want this?"_

_"Of course I do," Robert breathes quietly, eyes trained on the point of contact. He feels guilty for wanting it, for wanting Aaron. God, he's so vulnerable right now, and what kind of person would that make Robert?_

_"Then just let me." Robert says nothing, lifts his eyes again, and after a minute passes, Aaron leans in, kisses him properly, with passion and strength. Robert goes weak at the knees as he responds, automatically and completely, brushing his tongue against Aaron's lower lip._

Aaron's flat-

_Robert shoots his hand out, buries his fingers in the soft cotton of Aaron's t-shirt and revels in the sweet laugh it elicits. The younger man fights back, wrestling with Robert's arms and losing._

_He's pinned against the mattress, flat on his back with his wrists above his head and a stupid, dazzling grin on his face. Robert loves him. "I'm going to kiss you now," He whispers. Aaron's smile drops, his eyes darkening slightly, and he pushes his hips up just as their lips meet._

_Robert thinks that he's really in trouble now._

**Aaron's flat** -

_He curls his fingers over his knees and squeezes tight, and the flash of pain is just enough for him to ignore the sick, terrified feeling burning into his stomach. "Mates don't spend every single minute of the day together, Aaron," He breathes hard through the rage settling under his skin and holds a hand palm up when Aaron tries to interrupt. "I'm not finished! Mates don't cook each other nice dinners! Mates don't go on dates! Mates don't share a bed every night and they certainly don't fuck!"_

_"Maybe we crossed too many boundaries, then," Aaron says, his voice carefully even. The edges of his body are tight and Robert couldn't read him if he tried._

_"Boundaries!?" The older man cries, rising to his feet. He wants to pace but he can't tear his gaze from Aaron. "I thought this was real! I thought we were getting serious!"_

_Aaron stands up too, and the way he holds himself makes him almost match Robert's height. His chin is tipped up like a challenge, arms crossed over his chest, and oh. Oh. This is how they're playing it, then. "You thought wrong, Robert!" He snaps._

He feels a shudder run down his spine, pushes it away as soon as it comes, and stands awkwardly, shifting foot-to-foot. He avoids looking at the sofa, but it's playing out in his head anyway- 

_He takes a step forward. Aaron immediately takes a step back. "You asked me to say it! You told me to tell you! I love you, and I'm just falling deeper and deeper while you-"_

_Aaron shouts back. "Have you ever thought that maybe I don't love you!?" He yells, voice pitched and strained. It hits Robert square in the chest like a tonne of bricks._

_"While you've always had one foot out the door," Robert laughs humourlessly, quietly. He feels exhausted now all the fight has left his body, and he hangs his head. "I'll see you around, Aaron."_

"Tea?" Aaron asks, shrugging off his coat and staring at Robert expectantly. 

"No," He says shortly-

_As he turns to leave, he feels Aaron grab at his arm but he yanks it out of the younger man's grip. "Robert!" He shouts, sounding panicked and terrified and everything that's blackening Robert's insides. "You- You don't have to go!"_

_He stops in his tracks, hears Aaron's relieved exhale, but. "If I stay," He admits tearfully. He hates himself for crying; the waver in his voice and the wetness on his cheeks. "If I stay, I'm scared of what you'll do to me. I'm scared of what I'll let you do to me." And with that, he leaves. He steps out of the flat, tilts his head and tries to figure out exactly who he is without Aaron._

Aaron rakes his gaze up the length of Robert's body. Calculating. Assessing. "You should sit down, Robert. You look like you're about to drop," He murmurs. At Robert's silence, he rolls his eyes. "At least tell me where - _why_ \- you've moved."

"Are you for real?" Robert chokes out, curling his fingers into his palm. His nails leave crescent shaped dents in the skin, but it's not enough. None of this is enough. "You _know_ why. Now can you just get on with it?" He fidgets impatiently, only to prove his point. He feels like his skin is crawling; it's all _toomuchnotenoughoverwhelmingunderwhelming_.

Aaron bites his bottom lip, pulls it between his teeth. Mulls over his words. "Everything I said-" He starts, then shivers, looks uncomfortable. "I was scared, Robert." He shifts forward, takes Robert's elbow in his grip, but the older man pulls away like the touch burns. It feels like it does, feels like it blisters his skin with something black and ugly. It _hurts_.

"Scared," Robert repeats, disbelieving. He takes another step back, watches Aaron's world crumble in his eyes.

"Just let me finish!" Aaron half-yells, although he sucks in a pained breath and takes another step towards Robert. The older man doesn't move this time. "I was scared because- because I'd only known you for a matter of months and I felt more for you than I've felt for anyone else, alright? You were just- just some random bloke who lived across the hallway but suddenly it was like you were the centre of my universe. I had Josh but all I could really think about was the next time I was going to see you, about being your friend, about being _more_. And then I felt so guilty because I loved you more than I loved my boyfriend. Do you know how that feels?" He sounds desperate, breathless, wrecked.

Robert shakes his head, mute from the surprise of Aaron's outburst.

But the younger man's still not finished, and he blinks before carrying on. "I didn't know how to break it to Josh. How do you tell someone that you've fallen in love with someone else? And when he cheated - well, it was an easy way out, but I deserved it. I deserved it because I loved you and I didn't love him, but underneath it all I was _glad_ that he's the one who fucked up. And then you- you came storming in like my knight in shining armour and I loved you even more for it.

"And I love you so much, Robert. I just don't know what to do with it. I was fucking _terrified_ because I could see myself spending the rest of my life with you; I could see myself waking up next to you every morning. But someone who was supposed to love me had just cheated on me, how could I trust you not to do the same? My head was all over the place and I shouldn't have dragged you into it so early. But... I did, and I fucked it up because I ran when I should've stayed. I've regretted _everything_ I said since the minute I said it. And I'm sorry. So... Yeah. That's all of it, really." He sucks in a deep breath, smiles tightly. Robert can see the defeat in his eyes, but.

"Aaron..." He whispers, heart thudding so fast against his ribs that he's scared it's going to burst out of his chest and leave a trail of destruction. He doesn't know what to say - doesn't even know how he feels.

Aaron ducks his head, scuffs the carpet with the toe of his boot. "Even if you don't want me... If you don't want _anything_ to do with me, I understand. But I just wanted to tell you." 

Robert blinks a few time, clears his vision from the tears that are clouding it. "Why didn't you tell me before?" He asks, unable to tear his gaze away from the crown of Aaron's head.

"How?" The younger man laughs, but it's blank. Numb. Empty. Exactly like Robert's feeling. "How was I supposed to tell you? You moved out, you changed your number. You specifically told your work not to let me in - Louise didn't know where you were. Adam told me he wasn't getting involved and Victoria as good as told me to fuck off. I know I hurt you, but I've been trying to make it right. I've been staking out the pub for months, just hoping to get a glimpse, at least." 

"You've been stalking me," Robert says slowly, thinks of Aaron everywhere where he would've - should've - been. He can't stop the smile from creeping onto his face, and it's blinding. His face is cracking again, but this time it's in a happy way. 

Aaron doesn't look up but twists his body, affronted. "I wouldn't put it like that," He objects, sounding put out. He doesn't look up again until Robert takes a step forward, and then another, until he's crowding Aaron's body with his own. "What you doing?" He sounds confused, and he's so close that Robert can see all the details of his face - freckles, the grain of his beard, the specks of gold in his eyes - and it knocks the breath right out of his lungs. Just like the first time he saw him.

"Who would've thought it?" He asks, voice light and happy. He hasn't sounded like this for months, hasn't _felt_ like this for months. "Aaron Dingle, madly in love with me." The younger man laughs shyly, like- like he was expecting Robert to tell him that it's over, done, for good, but how could he _ever_? Robert dips forward, brushes their noses together. He feels Aaron curl his fingers into Robert's jacket, savouring the moment, but god, he doesn't have to. 

"I'm sorry," Aaron whispers, voice cracking. "I really am." 

Robert shushes him and fits his palm around the curve of Aaron's jaw. "Don't be," He murmurs, watching the way Aaron's eyelashes flutter against his cheek. He's missed this - had felt it like an aching crater; constant, empty. But he has it back now. "Next time you're scared, _tell me_. Because you weren't the only one." He sways forward, catches Aaron's lips in a kiss-

He comes home.

Home to his love, his future, his world. 

He's coming home.

  


**21st august, 6.59pm**

"You know," Vic says casually, smirking over the rim of her wine glass. It's _too_ casual, and Robert knows exactly where this is going. "I'm glad that you two worked this out. It's nice to see you so..." She trails off, but her eyes are still on him, sparkling cheekily. 

"Smug?" Aaron suggests with a grin, and Robert elbows him in the ribs, drawing a laugh from his boyfriend (and isn't that music to Robert's ears. _Boyfriend_ ). Adam sits there with a permanent sense of confusion on his face, an expression that hasn't left since the first time he'd seen the pair of them together. 

Victoria laughs too, and Robert's taken aback at how comfortable he is. It feels like he's in on a massive secret, being happy and content with his family and Aaron. It feels like he missed out. "I was gonna say settled, but that works too," She teases.

Robert smiles at her, genuinely smiles, and rests his arm along the back of Aaron's chair. "I _am_ settled," He admits, feeling Aaron tuck himself into his side. It's so easy, this - all of it is. Well, except the whole honesty thing, but they're men, aren't they? They don't know how to do it. But they're _trying_ and that's more than Robert's ever wanted. 

Vic opens her mouth to say something, but she's cut off when Andy arrives, pulling out two chairs for him and Katie. "Okay..." She says slowly, watching the oldest Sugden with a frown.

"I invited them," Robert says, offering a nod to Andy. Katie just glares at him - like that's ever going to change - but Victoria's face splits into a grin, excited to have her brothers in the same room, at the same _table_ , and not even throwing insults and punches.

Robert doesn't intend to, but obviously, Katie starts it.

"So," She drawls, manicured fingernails tapping on the table as Andy stands at the bar. "You're _gay_ this week then? Didn't think you had it in you." 

Aaron bristles under his arm, like he's gearing up for a fight or gearing up for _Robert_ to fight, and he curls his fingers tight around the older man's thigh. "I'm bisexual," Robert remarks casually, taking a sip from his pint. He feels rage thrumming through his veins, but he tells himself he's better than this. _Be the bigger man. Don't let her get to you. Your family are watching_. "And I happened to fall in love with a man. Is that a problem?" 

He doesn't wait for Katie to reply, just stands up and pushes his way through the pub, to the men's room, but before he can get there, he's stopped by a hand on his arm.

"Hey," Aaron says, staring up at Robert with wide, shining eyes. "You're amazing, you know that?" 

Robert shifts uncomfortably, crosses his arms over his chest. "I don't know what you mean."

"What I _mean_ ," Aaron huffs, rolling his eyes. He doesn't take Robert's shit and that's one of the hundreds of reasons Robert loves him. He'd list them all, if he could. "Is that you didn't let her get to you. I know how she riles you up, Rob, but you just- You're just amazing." He hooks his fingers in the loops of Robert's jeans and pulls them until they're touching, toe to toe, chest to chest. He glances down at Robert's lips and then back up again - a sign he wants to kiss, to be kissed - and Robert just grins.

He cradles Aaron's face in his hands, dips forward and feels the younger man's breath on his cheek as he fits their lips together. Aaron's mouth parts under his, and he brushes his tongue slowly along his lower lip, revels in the keening sound it draws. He tastes Aaron, mint and beer, and he thinks, _this is mine. This is all mine_ -

"Sorry," A voice calls, high-pitched and surprised. _Chas_. "Am I interrupting?" 

Aaron sighs as he pulls back, a drawn out long-suffering sound, but he doesn't move his body away from Robert's. "Well, you certainly pick your moments," He sighs, twisting his upper body to look at Chas.

"It's just-" She breathes, tears filling her eyes. Aaron groans, clearly used to it, but Robert's taken aback. "I'm just glad that you're both finally happy, love. You deserve it. _Both_ of you." She smiles at Robert, watery but still genuine, and then she's gone. 

"Right-" Robert starts lamely, not quite sure what he's going to say, but Aaron cuts him off by pressing a finger to his lips and leaning back in, kissing him harder than before.

  


**23rd august, 10.25am**

He stares at his phone, stares back at the coffee shop in front of him. Breathes in. Steps through the door.

And sees Louise sitting at a table in the corner. 

She looks up at him, and smiles weakly, eyes guarded. Robert hates that he put that there. "Hi," She says tonelessly, gesturing at the coffee opposite her. "I got you a drink."

"Thanks," He murmurs, sitting down, feeling like he's hanging onto the edge of his seat. He likes to think that he doesn't know how it got this awkward - but it does and it's his fault. "I'm really sorry for before."

She blinks at him, eyes as wide and thick with eyeliner as they were months before, but she looks _exhausted_. "It doesn't matter," She dismisses, but her voice is tight and hard so it clearly does.

" _No_ , Louise. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have dragged you into the mess I was in," He sighs, running a hand through his hair. This was always going to be difficult - but he didn't realise quite how much. "I was wrong and I'm _sorry_." 

Louise glances down at her coffee. "It's already forgotten- I shouldn't have-" She squeezes her eyes shut, then starts again. "I was fuelling a fantasy because I was in love with you. I let myself get in too deep." She traces the rim of her mug, and Robert's eyes follow her finger just to do _something_.

"I know," He says slowly, but if she's surprised, she doesn't show it. "I'm sorry if I lead you on - that I used you. I was a mess, Lou. I didn't know what I was doing." He feels like that now, too, because he can't quite look her in the eye and she's the same. It's never been like this. Not even at the start of their friendship. They were drawn together from the beginning, loud voices and louder personalities. Now they're complete opposites.

"So, you and Aaron are back on then?" She asks, and her lips quirk into something resembling a smile. "I saw it on Facebook. I'm glad - you were insufferable when you were heartbroken."

It shocks a laugh out of him, the way she says it so easily, but he finds himself grinning back. "I was pretty pathetic, wasn't I?" She makes a noise of agreement, but her face drops again, so he quietens his voice. "I miss you."

"I miss you too," She breathes, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "But we can't pretend like it's alright. We can't go back to normal just like that." He feels numb, empty. He feels like he's lost a part of himself, an extension, a better half.

"I know-" He says, ready to beg for her forgiveness, to try and start again, _anything_.

"But," She cuts him off, holding a hand up. "I said some vile things about Aaron - I said some vile things to Aaron. And all I've ever wanted was to see you happy. I shouldn't have made it a choice." She takes another sip of her coffee, mostly to avoid looking at Robert, but he leans back in his chair. Louise never apologises.

But there's a first time for everything.

He takes a deep breath. "And I shouldn't have done- well, everything, so we're both in the same position... Where do we go from here?"

She smiles again - properly this time - and holds her mug out. "You can start by getting me a refill," She teases. "And then you can tell me all about how Aaron won you 'round."

It's only a start - but it feels like it's the entire world, and Robert finally finds breathing a little easier.

  


**21st september, 12.05am**

Aaron turns over, rests his head on Robert's chest. He's practically sparkling in the moonlight, lines of smooth, soft skin highlighted, and Robert's mouth waters at about the same time his heart skips a beat. "The flat fell through," The younger man mutters, curling his fingers around Robert's hip. Ah, that's why he'd been in a mood all day. "So I've got three weeks and I'm out on my ear with no where to go." 

Robert hums lazily and cards his fingers through his boyfriend's hair. "We could get a place," He suggests, the words slipping out with a mind of their own. He freezes as he hears himself, doesn't know why he even asked - even though he'd been thinking about it for weeks.

"What?" Aaron asks, barely audible. He props himself up on his elbow, watches Robert with gentle eyes. "You want us to get a place?" 

"If you want," He replies carefully, tracking Aaron's expression. He's perfectly blank, although his mouth is crinkling at the corners from a barely hidden smile. "Maybe a house?"

The younger man tangles their fingers together, rests them on Robert's chest. "A house with a garden?" He says, eyes slowly lighting up. He looks happy, _excited_ , and Robert lets out the breath he'd been holding. "For a dog?" 

"With a garden for a dog," Robert confirms as his skin starts buzzing with the knowledge that yeah, maybe Aaron doesn't think it's such a bad idea. He pulls Aaron down until he's laying on top of him and nudges their noses together, tracing patterns on Aaron's bare back.

Aaron hums contentedly, using the fingers of his free hand to brush Robert's hair off of his forehead. "Just the two of us in a big empty house," He muses, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he grins. "I wonder what we'd get up to..." 

The older man laughs, hands slipping down to rest on Aaron's hips, and he presses his thumbs hard into the bruises he'd sucked onto the skin last night. "I guess you could always show me."

"Guess I could," Aaron agrees casually, although he's already reaching over to the bedside table as he leans down to kiss Robert. He sits up and takes control, licks into the older man's mouth as he pops the cap on the lube. The sound's loud, and the anticipation makes Robert groan. "I'll show you _exactly_ what it'll be like." He coats his fingers and leans back, slips a finger inside himself to the knuckle. A breath hisses between his teeth and Robert's jaw drops. 

He works himself open, making breathy moans that have Robert's dick growing harder, and then he pushes another finger in. He must hit his prostate because he cries out, head thrown back. Robert pushes his fingers into the bruises again, just to listen to the way Aaron chokes. "Think living together's gonna be fun," The blond manages to breath out, just as Aaron's decided he's ready and starts lubing Robert's cock.

"Just me and you," Aaron whispers, lowering himself onto Robert's cock. "Big commitment." His eyes flutter shut as Robert bottoms out, thighs shaking and fingernails digging into the older man's chest. Robert curls a hand round the back of his head, pulls him forward and kisses him - fucks his mouth with his tongue.

"I want big commitment," Robert replies, angling his hips as he thrusts upwards. Aaron's mouth drops open, perfectly pink and swollen, and his eyes roll back as Robert keeps thrusting. "I want big commitment with _you_." He slides his hands up Aaron's sides, thumbs over a nipple and listens to his boyfriend's breath stutter. "No one else."

Aaron lets out a slutty moan as he grinds back down. "No one else," He promises, tangling one hand in Robert's hair and pressing his other hand against the mattress. He keeps moving, shifting, keeping up a rhythm as he gasps in air. "I love you."

It brings tears to Robert's eyes, and he pulls Aaron down again, thumb resting over his adam's apple. "I love you too," He whispers, lips sliding against the younger man's cheek. "I love you." He curls his fingers around Aaron's cock, hot and heavy in his hand, and pumps his fist once, twice as he drags the blunt edge of his thumbnail over the slit. It draws a shuddered breath out of Aaron, then he's crying out, back arching, jaw slack and eyes squeezed shut-

He comes, clenching around Robert's cock, and Robert's world fades to white as he fucks into the heat and spills into Aaron.

When he opens his eyes, Aaron's laying next to him, pressed together nose to nose, chest to chest, knee to knee. "A house," Aaron slurs, eyes dazed as he tracks them over Robert's face. 

"A house," Robert confirms, brushing his lips lazily over Aaron's. "Two bedrooms - in case anyone wants to stay over. A kitchen big enough for both of us to cook in. Maybe I can even get you to dance..." He trails off, traces his fingers over his boyfriend's bare skin. He watches Aaron smile, watches his future light up in front of him. "A garden big enough for _at least_ two dogs to run around in, and a bed that's big enough for us to press up together and have a mile of space on the other side. How does that sound?" 

"Sounds like you've got it all planned out," Aaron teases, shifting forward to kiss Robert slowly. Their tongues brush, ignite sparks, and he sighs as he pulls away. "Sounds perfect. Sounds like everything I've ever wanted."

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at [aarobron](http://aarobron.tumblr.com/) x


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